


Vanderwood Backstory

by FanfictionConnectionWordpress



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mary Vanderwood the 3rd Fanfiction, Mystic Messenger Fanfiction, Vanderwood - Freeform, Vanderwood Backstory, Vanderwood Fanfiction, Vanderwood Mystic Messenger, Vanderwood Mystic Messenger Fanfiction, Vanderwood Origin Story, Vanderwood Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanfictionConnectionWordpress/pseuds/FanfictionConnectionWordpress
Summary: The story of how Vanderwood became who he is today, beginning from the age of 7 to his life in the agency.This is my version of Vanderwood as roleplayed in a Mystic Messenger server and used for my fanfictions.





	1. In the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life for Vanderwood has never been easy, even from the beginning.

***Welcome to Vanderwood Backstory! This fanfiction will cover my version of Vanderwood which I rp in this [Mystic Messenger Discord server](https://discord.gg/TUzzYgP). Get to know my Vanderwood, and maybe cry, a lot…I sure did. ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

 

 **Update:** Marion is not Vanderwood's Canon name.

 

Caleb was crying. Marion rolled over to check his clock. Yeah, it was time for the morning bottle. He hopped up to mark off another day on his calendar. Today was December 23rd, his 7th birthday. Marion started breakfast, an omelet for Dad, a bottle for Caleb, and a sandwich for himself. Mom would have wanted cereal…Marion bit his tongue. Surely she would come home for his birthday this year.

Once he’d gotten Caleb into the high chair, getting his hair pulled in the process and scolding the little two-year-old, he handed him his morning bottle and started the baby on his breakfast porridge as he munched on his own sandwich. Dad came in to grab his omelet before walking past the two boys and mussing their hair, going back up the steep stairs to his room. His appearance was in stark contrast to the two boys’, blond with blue eyes whereas the boys looked like their mother with brown hair and brown eyes. Marion had expected him to say something about his birthday, but maybe he was just too tired. There was probably something planned for later.

School was out, so he didn’t have to go to 1st grade classes today, instead he decided to get Caleb dressed up in his jacket and take his little brother to the playground. It would be Christmas tomorrow. Last Christmas they had sat around the tree waiting for Mom to come home until Dad just gave up. He’d said that Mom was going to come home from their aunt’s place in New York, but apparently something had come up. They barely even got to talk on the phone thanks to the time difference between London and New York.

Marion took Caleb down the slide a few times, the younger boy squealing with joy. They seemed to be the only kids outside, even though there was a nice fresh layer of snow. All the other children were probably home with their parents. The two boys started the trek back to their house, Caleb clinging to Marion’s hand like he’d taught him.

There was a man putting a tiny little tree down next to his trash bin. Marion’s eyes widened and his face broke out into a smile. Dad had said they didn’t have money for a tree, but maybe they could get this man to give them this one. It was just going in the trash otherwise. He picked up his younger brother, stumbling just a little in his haste to catch up to the man. “Hey! Can I have your tree?” The man raised his eyebrows at the boy running after him, a little surprised. “Sure, yeah, go ahead. I just hope you can carry it.”

Marion put Caleb down, taking his hand again before picking up the little tree under his other arm. He gave the man a big smile and nod. “Thank you so much!” The man watched as the two boys walked off, a smile on his face as well.

Once they were back in the house, Marion took care of preparing a snack for Caleb before placing the little tree in the living room near the couch where they’d placed the tree in years past. Hopefully his father would be pleased with his find once he finally got up. Of course, that wasn’t for another few hours.

The afternoon came around and his father brushed past the two boys where Marion was reading with Caleb’s head in his lap as the little boy napped. His father once more fluffed Marion’s hair, making Marion furrow his brows. Had he forgotten? Marion bit his tongue. He had. His eyebrow twitched a little, but he stroked his brother’s brown hair, which had become rather long since Marion didn’t know how to cut it with Caleb fussing. Maybe Mom would at least remember.

That’s when the doorbell rang. Marion practically jumped up, waking Caleb who made a soft cry. He patted his brother’s head before running for the door, his heart feeling like it was racing away with him. Marion flung the door open, a big smile on his face “Welcome ho-“ His words cut off as he looked at the four men who were standing on the doorstep. Those were Dad’s friends, and they certainly weren’t his Mom.

Marion’s smile fell away, and he called out to his father in the living room. “Dad, your friends are here.” He held the door open as the men brushed past him, hardly giving him a care in the world. They were all pretty much the same build, big bulky men that ran ‘stock’ for Dad, or at least that’s how his Dad had explained it. Dad had started a business of sorts shortly before Mom left, and now he said he was finally starting to make some money on it. Marion just hoped that would mean a big tree for next year or a trip to see Mom in New York.

After letting them in, Marion took Caleb to put him down for a nap in his crib before returning to the living room only to see something he never should have seen. Something no child should see. The men including his father were injecting themselves with something. Marion’s mouth dropped open, and then he noticed the tree knocked over on the ground. The tree his father hadn’t even bothered to say anything about. It felt like the world was crashing in around him, almost as though he was in a tunnel and the beams of an oncoming train were blinding his vision, but he couldn’t get away.

Marion turned and ran from the room, feeling anger boil up in his chest. He ran up to his room and knocked everything around, just wanting to do something, anything to get rid of that ugly feeling, the sight of whatever had been happening. Once he’d tired himself out ransacking everything, he realized that Caleb was crying and his father was grumbling at him to, “Shut that baby up!” Marion just shook his head, trying not to let tears well up, but he went to retrieve his brother, bringing him back to his own room and curling up in the bed with him.

There was only one hope left to save his seventh birthday, and Christmas. But she never came. Marion’s heart turned sour. The world was an ugly, ugly place.

Check out my website for more. [~Let's Connect! FFC](https://fanfictionconnection.wordpress.com/)


	2. Who Cares?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preteen and teenager Vanderwood, going from Marion to Vanderwood and losing the one thing he found enjoyable.

“Just back off.” Caleb sounded more confident than he felt. How was it that Marion could always manage to be so confident when he was fighting off his bullies, and yet here he was, his younger brother, and he couldn’t do shit?

Vanderwood was on his way back inside when he saw his brother and two other boys, and by their body language, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He approached the two from behind, making eye contact with his brother over their heads. “What’s up, C? These two bothering you?” The two turned around, their faces blanching as they looked up at the twelve-year old who was so much taller than them, even taller than boys his age, and their faces clearly said, ‘Oh shit.’

Caleb just shook his head. “I don’t think they are.” Vanderwood shrugged and started walking away, knowing that Caleb would come along. He was right; Caleb caught up to him and started that age old conversation. “I don’t need your help, M. Could have just put snakes in their lockers.”

Vanderwood looked at his brother, stopping in his tracks. “And get suspended like I did? Great idea, C.” Caleb shrugged. Marion had only just gotten back from his suspension after nearly beating that kid Tyler to death. Tyler had thought he was big enough to take Marion, calling him ‘Maid Marian’ over and over until his brother had finally snapped and beat the kid to within an inch of his life.

Caleb wasn’t the only one thinking about Vanderwood’s suspension. Vanderwood bit his tongue as he remembered coming home from school that day, the few bruises and cuts on his own face making his father look him over. ‘Tell me you won.’ That was all his father had cared about, and Vanderwood had nodded. His father? He’d patted him on the back and told him. ‘Good job.’ So that was what it took to make his father care about what he was doing.

***

The intercom disturbed his drawing. ‘Marion Vanderwood you’re needed in the counselor’s office.’ He wasn’t happy that it was interrupting his favorite class of the day, but he collected his sketchbook and made his way down to the counselor’s office. Art class was a required subject, but Vanderwood had come to enjoy it. It seemed like he actually had a talent for it, and at sixteen, he’d found a hobby.

Vanderwood just walked in since the door was already open. He’d been here once before, when he’d beat the shit out of Tyler four years ago, and not much had changed. It was the same little square room, a couch for the kids to sit on so they felt ‘comfortable’, a couple of tall plants in the corners, and a desk with two large filing cabinets on either side. The desk was always covered in all sorts of files from the kids the counselor was going to see that day, and the counselor sat at his desk with that same false look of concern. Well, at any rate, it seemed like a false look of concern to Vanderwood.

He sank into the couch as the counselor started speaking. “So, I hear you’ve taken a liking to art class.” Vanderwood furrowed his eyebrows at the guy. Why did it always feel like he was lying through his teeth? “How’d you hear that, baldy?” Did he really need to antagonize him? The old man made a fake laugh, just another fake thing about him. It just rubbed Vanderwood the wrong way.

There was no way that out of the hundreds of students at this school, he would have heard about his art for any other reason than someone having reported him for something. He was wracking his brain trying to think of what he could have done, but he kept so much to himself, the only time he was with anyone was when he was with Caleb. Had Caleb done something to one of the teachers or something? Would that be a reason to bring himself into the office? What did that have to do with art class?

The old man indicated the sketchbook that Vanderwood had in his hands. “May I see some of your drawings?” Vanderwood just narrowed his eyes. “No.” For once, the counselor’s false demeanor dropped, a look of irritation crossing his face before he could put his veneer of kindness back on. “That’s alright…I have one of your assignments here that you turned in.”

Now Vanderwood was _really_ confused. Why did one of his assignments matter? Then the guy handed it to him and he understood. It was the picture he’d drawn of a child sitting in a corner surrounded by blackness. Except that darkness wasn’t coming towards the kid, it was coming _from_ the kid. It all made sense now. His art teacher was concerned, not enough to talk to him himself, and now he was here with this old man who actually didn’t give a shit.

He spent the rest of art period explaining to the counselor that he was just fine. Everything was fine at home. Nothing was wrong. He liked to keep to himself; that was just how it was. It was all lies, and as much as Vanderwood hated liars, he hated telling the truth to liars even more, especially when it meant protecting Caleb. If the school became concerned enough, they'd send someone to check on them at home, and that couldn't happen. Eventually, the counselor let him go with a, “Just be careful what you draw, so you don’t make people worry.”

Vanderwood was quiet as he and Caleb walked home, going past his father and his buddies parceling out their drugs for this month’s sales and up to his own room without a word. He was angry, angry that he had to ‘watch’ what he drew so as not to worry anyone. But even when he’d worried them, they hadn’t even really cared. What was the fucking point? All they wanted was to cross their t's and dot their i's and take his brother away from him. As soon as he was in his room he tore the few pictures he had on his walls down and tossed them in the trash, about to do the same with his sketchbook when Caleb walked in. “What’s up, M?”

Caleb was the only one who didn’t call him Vanderwood because, ‘It just doesn’t make sense.’ Vanderwood shrugged at his younger brother, not really wanting to get into it, and Caleb understood, sitting on the floor and reaching for his brother’s sketchbook. “Can I see it?” After a moment’s hesitation, Vanderwood sat down next to his brother and handed it over.

“These are really good…Is this…Who is this?” Vanderwood bristled a little as he looked at the woman on the page. “That’s Mom…as I remember her.” Caleb’s mouth fell open as he looked at it before he turned the page. “That’s…you drew a picture of me?” He’d been drawing quite a few portraits it seemed…no…just those three. “So this is…Dad before he started all the drugs and stuff?” Vanderwood nodded.

Caleb started flipping through the rest of the sketch book pages, recognizing little things from his childhood. Almost every picture seemed to speak to him on some level, and it made sense that only someone living the same life as Vanderwood would be the one to understand. Once he’d made it through the entire thing, he handed it back. “You’re good.”

Vanderwood’s smile was small. “Yeah…Thanks.” Caleb looked at his brother as they sat there in silence for a moment, obviously something had happened to make him tear down the pictures he used to keep on the wall, to want to throw away his sketchbook. “You gonna keep drawing?” Vanderwood thought it over for a minute. “I don’t think so.”

After another moment of silence, Caleb nodded. “Just…keep the sketchbook.” He dug in his pocket for his earbuds and mp3, handing one to his brother. “Want to listen to some music?” Vanderwood replied to both of Caleb’s sentences, taking the earbud and popping it into his ear. “Yeah, okay.”

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	3. Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Vanderwood makes a vow, one that will keep him from becoming like his father.

***This was not originally included as it was something that developed naturally into my version of Vanderwood over the past year, so I wanted to release a chapter to update this part of his personality. I would say enjoy but it's a little too angsty to 'enjoy' per se. This is now the new Chapter Three to Vanderwood Backstory, may you find it...interesting and enlightening.  ~Let's Connect! FFC***

**Trigger Warning: Rape**

The noise downstairs had finally died down. Another weekend, another of his dad's drug parties. He didn't like that Caleb was around it, keeping the young boy upstairs with him during the mess, and it had as always made his skin crawl thinking of all those people making a literal mess, too.

At this point, he was developing a dislike for crowds and strangers, messes. The parties and disorder gave him massive anxiety, making him need the order and cleanliness just to feel normal. Was he developing OCD as a method to control his environment? Yes. Yes, he was.

Vanderwood made his way down the stairs slowly, the silence much preferred to the earlier noise. It was a good thing they were further away from other homes, because if the police got wind of this and that Caleb and himself were around it, Vanderwood feared what would happen to them. Soft voices interrupted his thoughts, and he furrowed his brows. He'd thought that everyone had left already.

The kitchen was empty, other than the mess of items everywhere, not the least of which were syringes. Vanderwood tried to ignore that skin crawling feeling as he peeked around the corner of the kitchen doorway into the living room. Inside, he could see his father and a young woman, the both of them unsteady on their feet as his father went after the girl to take her wrist.

She didn't look much older than he himself was, maybe seventeen at best, and it didn't take him long to recognize the girl as one who went to school with him. Vanderwood felt a rise of nausea as his father smashed his lips against the girl's, a sloppy mess of tongues and lips before the girl was pushing the man over twice her age away from her. "I really gotta get home, Mr. V." Her speech was slurred, and Vanderwood was pretty sure she was drunk, high, or both. Certainly not in a state to consent, and also clearly not doing so.

His father got this big crooked grin on his face as he pawed at her some more. "That's Big V to you, missy." He handed the girl something, seemingly a small shot glass. "One for the road." The girl didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that, taking the shot, and Vanderwood was about to run off back upstairs when he heard a soft thud sound. He peeked back around the doorway again to see the girl had passed out, his father inelegantly tossing her onto the couch as she incoherently mumbled.

Vanderwood's eyes widened, his stomach churning wildly as he saw his father undoing his pants. What...the Hell...Oh, Bloody Hell. He moved again, pressing himself against the wall next to the doorway and staring straight ahead as the sink, his eyes wide as now his stomach lurched. His father was going to rape this girl.

"That's much better now, sweety." He could hear the soft sounds of her whimpers and then the grunting of his father as the girl started to make even more incoherent noises, almost certain he heard the word ‘no’ more than once. She was so drugged. What was he supposed to do? Brown eyes flicked to the telephone hanging on the wall, but as he reached for it, he realized that he couldn't do that. His brother...child services. Vanderwood pulled his hand away again.

A much louder grunt, drawn out as the young girl whined made him nearly double over trying not to vomit. Not only was the environment filthy, but now he felt filthy, too. It was quiet for a while, and Vanderwood finally chanced to peek in, seeing the girl with her skirts up and his father passed out on the opposite side of the couch. Had he...even bothered to use something? Jesus...

Vanderwood's stomach lurched again, and he had to bite his tongue hard to keep the bile from rising. He moved quietly into the living room, grabbing a nearby blanket and gently draping it over the young girl. Disgusting. His eyes fell on his father again, and a rage could be felt deep in his chest. Not only was his father a no-good drug dealer, but apparently, he was a rapist pedophile, too.

Fuck...He really hoped the poor girl didn't get pregnant. Sure, she'd been an idiot being at a party like this, but...that didn't mean she deserved... _That_...Vanderwood looked at his surroundings, the urge to clean suddenly overwhelming him. Clean...If he cleaned...he could at least remove some of that filth from himself.

As he scrubbed and scrubbed, each item he cleaned shining as though it was brand new, Vanderwood would throw a glance at the girl and feel his skin crawling again. Never. He'd never to that to a woman. Vanderwood had no interest in sex as it was, the idea of another person touching him wholly unappealing, but he bit down on his tongue before he turned back to his cleaning again.

Right now, he'd make a vow never to be like his father. Vanderwood obviously had no intentions to be like him in the first place, but _this_ , he would certainly never become this filthy. That was going to be his vow to the poor girl. He couldn't have helped her anyway...It had already been happening by the time he'd tried to reach for the phone, and he certainly couldn't have stopped his father if he'd tried. Vanderwood wouldn't ever be able to forget this, but at least he could make sure he never went down that path. He would be a different kind of person.

Check out my website. [~Let’s Connect! FFC](https://fanfictionconnection.wordpress.com/)


	4. The Broken Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world completely changes and Vanderwood breaks the window. What possesses a man to put his hand through a window?

It hadn’t taken much to get Vanderwood to move out. His father offered to train him to take over ‘the family business,’ and he was out of there. Dropping out of school was a no brainer. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and it wasn't like he had a chance of getting any scholarships or grants with his grades. It wasn’t that he was stupid; Vanderwood just didn’t care. A guy in class that he would smoke with during break, a habit he'd started just because it gave him something to do, had mentioned that he made money on street fights, and it was easy enough for Vanderwood to climb the ranks, enough to get himself an apartment and some furniture, even a pretty decent TV.

He honestly didn’t spend money on much, so any time he made more than he needed, he sat around trying to figure out what to do with it, putting some of it into a fund for Caleb just in case the kid ever wanted to go to college. Vanderwood decided to get a tattoo, and after arguing with the artist for several hours that he only wanted demon wings, he ended up with two large half angel and half demon wings over his back. They honestly looked great, he had to hand it to his tattoo artist. It seemed to fit him pretty well, so he walked away happy. It made him stand out in fights. Vanderwood did like to present a good image.

Caleb knew he was welcome at Vanderwood’s apartment anytime. Truth be told, Vanderwood was a little worried leaving his brother with his father and his buddies, so Caleb spent pretty much every night at his apartment. Things were simple, and the days were pretty much the same for about two years. Of course, Caleb was getting older, growing into his teenage years.

By the time two years rolled around, he wasn’t spending as much time with at his brother’s place anymore. In fact, sometimes Vanderwood was pretty sure Caleb was sleeping off a hangover at the aftermath of some high school party, and he scolded the kid plenty, but in the end, that was Caleb’s choice. Vanderwood had gone through his own weird teenage period, mostly moping in his room and ignoring everyone except for his brother.

After a while, Caleb started coming around maybe once a week, then once a month, but Vanderwood was just happy to see him. The door opened and Vanderwood looked up from the fridge. “Oh, hey, C. What’s up?” His brother seemed…oddly jittery? That was strange. Vanderwood narrowed his eyes, and Caleb just kinda shrugged, picking at the black studs in his ears. When he’d first gotten them, Vanderwood had rolled his eyes. He just didn’t get it. Granted, he had a tattoo, but Caleb wasn’t a tough guy, so him having his ears pierced just didn’t suit him.

“I need a place to crash. My friend Slim kicked me out of his place last night ‘cause I kinda slept with his sister.” His younger brother pushed his bangs back. He’d always kept his hair cut pretty short whereas Vanderwood generally let his grow out at least to his shoulders, it was a little messy, Vanderwood felt it suited his style. Other than that, Caleb was the spitting image of himself only thinner and less muscular.

Vanderwood snorted softly, biting his tongue a little before he reprimanded him. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Caleb just nodded like he’d heard it all before, and at this point, he pretty much had. Sometimes Vanderwood felt like he was mothering his brother, but he had practically raised him. His brother bounced from foot to foot, still acting like someone had dropped an ice cube down his shirt. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

That had Vanderwood furrowing his brows. “Of course not. Why would I mind? This is as much your place as it is mine, you know that.” He grabbed his wallet from the counter and slipped on his jacket. It was starting to get chilly out there since fall was coming around the corner. “I’ll be back with some groceries to make dinner. Bye.” Caleb nodded and was off toward the bathroom. Vanderwood furrowed his brows as he locked his house from the outside, breathing in the chilly air. Why had he said bye? It didn't really matter. Caleb would be there when he got back.

As he shopped, Vanderwood still couldn’t help but feel like something was seriously up with his brother. What the Hell was that jittery thing he was doing? He felt a weird twisting sensation in his gut, breathing becoming difficult, and he blinked. What the fuck was up with him? Vanderwood felt…terrified…for some reason. It just got worse as he was checking out, and the overwhelming urge to just get home overtook him. He took off at a run, some of the groceries tumbling from his bags before he got to his apartment.

Once he was inside it seemed…eerily quiet. “Caleb?” Vanderwood placed the groceries on the counter, that feeling of his gut twisting now accompanied by a soul crushing fear. His heart was racing. Why wasn’t his brother answering? He checked every room thinking surely the kid couldn’t still be in the bathroom, but finally it was the only room left.

Vanderwood tried the door only to find it locked. “Caleb, what the fuck, open the door.” He paused waiting for a reply. “Caleb?!” Panic was setting in hard and fast. Finally, he just slammed into the door and knocked it open.  The sight that greeted him would be forever burned into his memory.

Caleb was slumped on the floor, a band tied around his forearm and a syringe on the floor. No. It couldn’t be possible. His brother wasn’t on drugs; he would never. Except right there was the evidence. “Caleb?” Vanderwood didn’t recognize his own voice, it came out choked and small. Why wasn’t his brother responding?

After the initial shock, Vanderwood was now on the floor, pulling Caleb into his arms. “Hey, C, wake up. Come on. It’s not fucking funny.” It had to be one of his brother’s dumb ass pranks, right? Just him being a little shit. Except, his brother felt so heavy, and not the kind of heavy of someone passed out after a night of drinking, the kind of heavy that was cold and lifeless. _Why did I say bye?_

Vanderwood felt like he couldn’t breathe. _Think, think._ What were you supposed to do in situations like this? He slipped his phone out of his pocket, trying to see through the blur of the tears stinging his eyes so that he could call 911 before dropping the phone on the floor and cradling his brother in his lap. “Hey, C, you’re gonna be alright. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’re fine.”

Except he wasn’t fine. He would never be fine. Caleb was dead. It took at least a half hour to get Vanderwood to let go of his brother’s body once the EMT’s actually showed up. Vanderwood didn’t want to believe them. His brother couldn’t be dead. Caleb was only fifteen years old. That wasn’t how life was supposed to work. He just couldn’t be dead.

***

“Hey, Vanderwood…Are you even listening to me?” Vanderwood was brought out of his stupor by a familiar voice. It was TJ, one of the other guys he regularly fought with on the street. He liked to think of him as a friend, well…Not that he really had any friends. “The funeral’s over, man…It’s time to go home.”

He was right. Vanderwood had been staring at the mound of dirt six feet under which the body of his brother was. That college fund had sure come in handy for the cost of funeral expenses. He snorted mirthlessly at himself, too numb to care anymore. Vanderwood stood up slowly. “Yeah. Guess I’ll do that then.” It looked like TJ was about to say something else, but Vanderwood just kept walking, brushing past his father. Why was he even there? This was as much his fault as it was Vanderwood’s.

His father reached out to grab Vanderwood’s arm. “Hey, son. Guess with your brother gone you’re the only hope for the family business now.” Vanderwood was frozen for all of ten seconds before he turned and punched his father hard, probably harder than he’d punched anyone in his entire life. At least that’s what it felt like. “I want _nothing_ to do with you or your fucking drugs. Your drugs killed your son. Or don’t you care?”

Vanderwood heard TJ calling out to him, but he was off, running down the street. He ran aimlessly for a while, feeling rage thick in his chest, choking him, but it wasn’t going away, so he slowed down, walking and catching his breath, his fists clenched so hard it felt like he might lose all feeling in his fingers. It was like this all the time now. The only two things he could feel were anger and nothingness.

His apartment felt cold. Vanderwood looked towards his bathroom. Every time he went in there it was like a movie of everything played in his mind. That rage felt like it was burning him now, and just like that, his right fist went through his living room window, shattering the thing to pieces. There was blood all over his hand and forearm, but honestly, he didn’t care. If the neighbors hadn’t called in because of the loud noise, he wouldn’t have gotten any medical care.

As the EMT’s wrapped up his hand, he just sat there in silence, the cold wind coming through the window only adding to the numb feeling that was already consuming him. There was no one else in his corner now, just the darkness emanating from his soul. He was alone.

***Hidden Scene, Caleb Backstory, this chapter from Caleb's point of view - find out more about hidden scenes on my website.***

Check out my website for more. [~Let's Connect! FFC](https://fanfictionconnection.wordpress.com/)


	5. Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood discovers that he has certain needs after the death of his brother. These needs become his way of coping, but how healthy is that really?

“Dude, you can’t fight today.” TJ was annoying him. Everyone and everything was annoying him. His heavy set friend had his own bruises marring his dark skin. TJ was that one black guy for whom the mandatory brown marker in a Yaycrola set actually matched his skin tone. Once upon a time, that had made Vanderwood laugh. Now he just snorted softly. “You’ve got a boxer’s fracture you gotta heal up, and I know for a fact you already paid rent, so what are you even doing here today?”

Vanderwood looked around the warehouse full of people and shrugged. What was he even doing here? It seemed like he went here on impulse more than anything. Whenever he thought about Caleb or ran into his dad, he just kind of…showed up here. Really, he didn’t feel much of anything. He hadn’t watched TV for what seemed like years and this was the only thing he did other than sit at home and stare at his wall, wanting to put his fist through the drywall. “Guess I’ll just go then.”

TJ started to say something else, but Vanderwood was gone. His muscles felt so tight it was almost like his entire body was squeezing him. He just started running, nowhere in particular, needing to do something, and found himself at a pub. It wasn’t so crazy to be entering a bar right now, it was getting towards evening. Not that it really would have made much of a difference to Vanderwood at this point. He was thinking that maybe if he got blackout drunk, he wouldn’t have to think about anything else.

How long had it been since Caleb had died? Vanderwood honestly couldn’t remember. He did remember that he’d since turned twenty. The bartender asked him what he wanted, but Vanderwood just shrugged, so he ended up with a large glass and a bottle of hard liquor next to him. This bartender was pretty damn observant.

Vanderwood threw back a glass and wiped his mouth when he felt more than saw someone sit next to him. He turned his head just slightly, looking over the newcomer from his periphery. She wasn’t bad looking, her black hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, with her shirt cut low, the sleeves low too to expose her shoulders, collarbone, and cleavage. The girl had some sizable breasts, and he had to admit her ass looked good in those skinny jeans.

Generally, Vanderwood ignored women. He’d always ignored women. There just wasn’t anything in particular he found interesting about them. It wasn’t that he was gay. His magazines had just always been enough to satisfy his curiosity as a teenager, since actually being around other people was something he never really enjoyed. Plenty of girls and women had hit on him before, and he’d considered taking some up on their offer as a teen, just to find out what all the hubbub was about, but had eventually decided against it since he didn’t want anyone to get too close to him. Touch made him anxious, made him feel like he needed to clean. At 16 a random girl had kissed him, and that had just made it worse. This girl though…He was pretty sure she wasn’t interested in him on a personal level, and his suspicions were quickly confirmed.

“You look like a guy who needs a good time.” Her voice was low, drawn out, deep brown eyes looking up to meet his as she leaned her arm against the bar top, further giving him a view of her cleavage. “I don’t come cheap, but I think you really need it.” Vanderwood snorted softly, biting his tongue as he thought it over. A hooker. There would be no attachment, he didn’t have anything else to do, and…his eyes caught sight of his right hand and the white lines of crisscrossing scars. His heart clenched painfully, the guilt, pain, and anger rising hard again. He needed a distraction. Even if touch made him sick...that was a distraction too.

Vanderwood pulled out his wallet nonchalantly. He’d been winning a lot of fights lately and had plenty of money to use. It wasn’t being used for anything else anyway. “Good news for you, I don’t need cheap. How much and where?” He wasn’t entirely sure on how you talked to a hooker, but his detached demeanor seemed to be working just fine for her. “I use the room upstairs. $250 an hour.” After flashing her the money, he put it back in his pocket. “I’ll pay you once I meet you up there.” A smirk grew on the hooker’s face. This one was a smart cookie, he wouldn’t pay until he got the goods. She nodded and took off, Vanderwood following her with his eyes to see where she took the stairs up.

He pushed away from the bar and headed towards the bathroom. If he was going to do this, he at least wasn’t going to be stupid about it. There was no way he was catching something, and he sure as Hell wasn’t looking towards getting anyone pregnant. Vanderwood got a condom from the bathroom dispenser. It was a little strange, he thought, as he went up the stairs, finding the room the hooker was in pretty quickly. Normally, people would lose their virginity as a fumbling teenager in the back of their parents’ car, but he wasn’t exactly normal anyway. Vanderwood wasn’t sure what to expect, really. If he was being honest, he was expecting to feel virtually nothing. Since Caleb, magazines and TV weren’t something he even bothered to look at, but like he’d thought earlier, _I’ve got nothing better to do._

“So how do you like it, handsome? Want help getting undressed?” Vanderwood stiffened up, the idea of someone else touching him rather than the other way around was _not_ one he was interested in. At the moment, even her voice was annoying him. “How about this. You don’t touch me, you don’t talk to me, and I do what I want?” That seemed more reasonable to him. If the woman was really about her money, it wouldn’t make a difference to her anyway, and he was right, she just nodded and sat on the bed, watching him through her lashes.

His eyes had searched the room briefly, noting a clock stating it was 5 o’clock. Vanderwood closed the door with his foot and pulled off his shirt before moving over towards her. He’d kissed a girl in 8th grade, well really, had _been_ kissed by a girl in 8 th grade, and it hadn’t been so bad other than that he'd had no control, but now he just took this woman’s chin and kissed her hard. It was unfeeling, it was rough, and for him, it felt damn great. His hand found her ponytail and wrapped her hair around his fingers, yanking a little, maybe harder than was polite, but the hooker was quiet other than a soft little sound that just made him feel even better. It had sounded pretty genuine, wasn’t faked for his amusement.

He’d seen sex on TV, watched porn, but actually being a part of it, it seemed a lot messier. Vanderwood didn’t care enough to feel embarrassed, and there was no way the hooker would even have known he’d never had sex before as he pulled off her clothes and pushed her down onto the bed, eyes roaming and growing darker. He could feel his muscles getting less tense by the second, even as he got harder by the second. The hormones and adrenaline moving through his body now were even more relaxing than the rush of winning a fighting match, and it was a whole Hell of a lot less painful.

The hooker kept good to his requests, keeping her hands above her head as he roamed with his own, squeezing her breasts, nipping along her neck. Each time she tensed up he smirked a little. It was honestly rather fun knowing that he was good at this, although on some level he really didn’t care whether she came away from this having enjoyed it. He was the one paying, so. It wasn’t long before

Vanderwood was tired of playing around with her, his pants tight and uncomfortable, his erection nearly getting painful. He threw his pants and boxers off to the side after retrieving the condom, fumbling maybe just an instant with getting it on before he was over her again, hand catching her wrists and holding her hands above her head as the other hand held her hip. Moment of truth.

He thrust into her in one go, making her cry out, although he really didn’t even hear her. His own ears were ringing with the sound of his own heartbeat, his teeth clenched at the unfamiliar pleasure of the way she wrapped around him. It was exhilarating. This was the best he’d felt in a long time. Vanderwood started to move, slow to find a rhythm, but once he did it was fast, hard, and unrelenting.

The hand that had been on her hip found her ponytail, pulling her head back hard even as he arched his own head upwards, looking at the ceiling. He felt in control, felt no numbness, felt real pleasure for longer than five minutes after beating the shit out of an opponent. This was ecstasy. Vanderwood experimented around, not wanting to lose this feeling too fast after he’d just found it. Then he started to feel his gut clenching, heat coursing through him hard and heavy, and he recognized it as a quickly oncoming orgasm.

Without having realized it, the hooker had already cum for him at least once, which he’d only noticed as her tightening around him. She’d said nothing, doing her job like she was supposed to, but she was pretty damn happy too. Usually johns were those fumbling boys trying to get their first time or middle-aged men not getting enough at home, so this was way better.

Vanderwood grit his teeth as he thrust forward one last time, finding that release and letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. _Holy fucking shit._ It was so good. His chest rose and fell quickly with his panting breaths before he could catch his breath again and pulled away, discarding the condom. The hooker just laid there as he got up, watching him get dressed and pull out his wallet.

His eyes found the clock he’d noticed when he’d entered the room. 6:30…He’d been in there for an hour and a half. “I’m assuming half an hour is $125.” Vanderwood took out $375 and placed it on a dresser near the door as the hooker spoke up, her voice sounding surprisingly rawer than it had when she’d first talked to him. “Don’t worry about the half hour, hot stuff.” Vanderwood raised an eyebrow at her.

That had made him uncomfortable. “I’m a customer like anybody else. Your $375 is on the dresser.” With that, he walked out, surprised that he didn’t feel that little angry beast in his chest right now. Maybe he should do this more often. The hooker called out to him before he closed the door. “Come back to me anytime; a man has his needs.” He wouldn’t be coming back to her, but she was right. Vanderwood did have needs and now he knew how to take care of them.

As he paid for his drink with the bartender, who didn’t mention the hooker making Vanderwood think she had some sort of agreement with him, he noticed a woman at the end of the bar eying him. He smirked a little at the way her eyes traveled over his body, and felt a little twitch as he did the same to her. Another hour of what he’d just had didn’t sound so bad to him. Vanderwood walked over to the woman, seeing her jump just a little before her eyes went back to their sultry look. She wasn’t bad looking, and seemed like she was thinking the same thing.

“Feel like coming home with me?” The idea of having sex again so quickly after the first, he’d heard only a few could do it and that it hurt, but he could feel he was fully ready to go and wouldn’t mind the extra rush of euphoria. “Let’s go.” He pointed his jaw towards the door and the girl jumped up, following along eagerly. Yeah. He had needs.

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	6. A Lovely Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood experiences what all should refer to as....well....it's a lovely night.

Vanderwood wasn’t in a particularly good mood. In fact, he was on the prowl for a fix, his entire body wound so tight that it was becoming unbearable. He’d been to see Caleb today, for the first time in a year, and then his father had shown up out of the blue. There just was no way he wanted to deal with that, his thoughts, the pain, the anger, relief was what he needed.

The pub was rather packed tonight. There was a performer on stage, and Vanderwood was watching her, the woman occasionally making eye contact. He wasn’t sure if it was just because of how attractive he seemed to be, but the performer seemed to be focusing a lot on him, and that was fine. She would be easy pickings for some sex. There was a storage area behind the stage, and somehow without even noticing it, that was where he and the performer had ended up.

Her hair was voluminous and blonde, wearing a satin red dress that hugged her every curve. Vanderwood was already hard and ready, although the woman was being somewhat irritating. “Don’t you want to try something new?” Anal wasn’t exactly his thing, Vanderwood just wanted to get his fix and get out. Honestly, even the thought was making his skin crawl because that was just too messy for his taste. “Just let me have my fun.” His own voice was low as he pushed the woman against the wall.

The performer was having their own internal dilemma. Damn it, the guy was still doing frontal exploration. Pretending to be a woman was easy enough, but when you wanted to get fucked you had to be careful. After reaching for his hands as though to guide them over the parts of ‘her’ body that ‘she’ knew were close enough to real to be convincing, it was becoming clear that he wasn’t having being touched.

Why did she keep trying to move his hands? He wasn’t having it. Vanderwood pushed her against the wall harder. “I thought when you brought me here you wanted me to have fun?” Vanderwood had almost stopped, memories of something he'd seen his father do to an underage girl hitting him. The woman nodded though, consent, so he slid easily back into his desires. His hand slipped over her breasts, trailing down her sides and then around to grab her heat, test if she was ready for him, but his hand stilled. Something was not quite right under the folds of her dress. The feeling wasn’t totally unfamiliar in his hand as it reminded him of touching himself and that’s what made him realize.

Vanderwood jumped back and away so fast it was almost enough to make him fall on his ass. “Oh, Hell no.” Nope. His entire body had been tight and tense already, but now he was really freaking out. This ‘woman’ had been a man the whole time, and been trying to get him to have sex with ‘her’ under false pretenses. The 'woman' started to protest, but Vanderwood was already out of there. He needed a fix and he needed it fast, but _Hell no_ was he fucking a man let alone a lying one.

God, damn it, he wanted to put his fist through something. His eyes scanned the bar area, quickly finding several women that looked attractive enough. It would be easy enough to get any of them home with him as long as he could manage not to look as insane as he felt. Vanderwood plastered on a charming smile, approaching the first woman he saw, a red head with arguably small breasts for his usual but a very nice ass. Hopefully this one was actually a woman. The thought had him wanting to gag.

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” The look in her eyes told him she certainly didn’t, and just a drink later she was agreeing to come to his place. Which was good because he thought any second now his muscles would get so taut that they would just snap. 

***

Finally. Vanderwood was laying on his back now, his hand covering his eyes as he caught his breath. He’d already tossed the condom in his garbage near the bed, so now he could just soak up the feeling of being fully relaxed again. Usually he didn’t take women to his place, preferring to go to theirs so he could leave as he pleased and to keep his own flat clean, but this one had insisted because of her flatmates, and he had really been in too much need to refuse her request. The euphoria and relief started to wear off way too quickly, though.

She rolled over and wrapped her arm around his waist, nuzzling into his chest which made him tense up before removing his arm from his eyes and peeling her arm away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Vanderwood sat up in bed and reached for his clothes on the floor, pulling on his boxers from his position in the bed.

The woman made a face at him. “What do you mean what am I doing? Don’t tell me you’re one of _those_ guys who doesn’t like to snuggle after sex.” At the end she had smiled, a tease curling into her voice. “I’m more like one of those guys who fucks and then leaves.” Vanderwood really wasn’t interested now that the sex was over, but he was even less interested now that she seemed to be pushing herself on him. What the Hell was up with his choices today? Usually it wasn’t a problem. He came and he went with no issue.

“You’re really…You think I’m just a one-night stand whore?” The redhead was now getting very angry, crossing her arms and sitting up in his bed, pressing her back against his headboard like she was moving in. “That’s what I was going for, yeah.” He got out of bed now to pull on his pants, his back turned towards her. Maybe if he ignored her long enough she would just leave? “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

Well, that was a wasted thought then. Vanderwood’s head was starting to hurt, his muscles getting taught again. Which was just absolutely fantastic. Even his fix wasn’t helping him today. What was he supposed to do with this chick? And then he realized. Vanderwood picked up her clothes first, holding them out to her. “You have a couple options here. Get dressed in here and leave, or I throw your clothes and you out.”

She looked away from him, making it absolutely clear that she one, didn’t believe him, and two, was really not going to leave of her own accord. Vanderwood tossed her clothes out first and that’s when it seemed to sink in that his steady and even tone really wasn’t just an elegant performance, he was completely serious. As he picked her up and flipped her over his shoulder, she started flailing and screaming, but he set her outside, kind enough to have brought the blanket along, before setting her out onto the steps,  closing and locking the door quickly.

He listened to her screaming and banging on his door for a while, trying to rub his headache away to no avail, and then finally, after what seemed like hours, he realized it was quiet and that she had left. Vanderwood opened his door to find his blanket on the ground, which he placed in the wash before getting dressed and heading out. Maybe if he just, took a walk, he could get rid of his irritation without trying to find another fix. His night clearly wasn’t going so well.

As he walked along he couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was his own fault for not being smarter about who he chose. After all, he usually just went with the first one to show interest, and half the time he didn’t even remember how he ended up at their place. It was always as though he was in a haze, the only thing he could ever really remember being the condom, which was a good thing. He pushed his bangs back with a sigh as he walked along a street. This is usually the street he ran on in the mornings, just for some exercise.

Lately, he’d been working on buffing up. His natural musculature was only so good in fights now that he was moving up the ranks towards the big guys, the people who had been fighting nearly professionally, which is pretty much what he did now. Life was pretty simple for him, exercise, eat, fight, fuck, sleep, and repeat. Maybe he’d just been unlucky tonight?

“Vanderwood!” A sing-songy voice caught him off guard as he looked up to see a woman running towards him from the other side of the street. How the fuck did she know his name? She didn’t look at all familiar. Then again, with as many women’s faces as he saw on an almost daily basis, that wasn’t so surprising.

He stopped in his tracks and looked down at her. She was his type, random girl with a nice body, so maybe he’d slept with her? “I haven’t seen you since last week…I gave you my number, thought you’d call.” The chick was wagging her finger at him now as though she was scolding a child. He didn’t like it one bit, and it was clear to him now that, yes, he had indeed slept with this chick, although he couldn’t for the life of him remember the event itself.

“I don’t call. I’m not interested.” Vanderwood was beyond done with today. Really, he wasn’t just having a bad night, he’d set himself up for this. It really was time to get smarter. He didn’t even bother listening as the chick started to babble about how she thought they had something special after that night. Although, he did catch her say he was the best lover she’d ever had, and he wasn’t really surprised other than the fact that he didn’t give a shit about how the other party felt most of the time other than common courtesy of proper angle so they could have some fun too or when he needed an ego boost.

That was probably the longest walk he’d taken in a while, and it was hours before he headed home, thoughts reeling. He was going to need to be smarter about his choices, and probably spend twelve years washing his hand to forget that damn performer. Maybe he could just stick to whores, but he’d probably need to start picking the even more expensive ones, which meant more expensive pubs, but he had the money, so that was just the way to go, he figured. As he locked up his flat, he leaned against the door and sighed. “What a lovely night."

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	7. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood walking into the fire of his new life. Will it be worse or better than what his life has been up until now?

Another day, another fix. At least now he had the sense to choose the right type of woman. Vanderwood entered the pub of the hotel. It was a luxury hotel, and he really didn’t fit in as far as his appearance, but he didn’t bother to. All he was looking for was the right woman, and all she would care about was whether or not he had the money she wanted. He scanned the bar area, picking out the few women who seemed to be doing scanning of their own. Which were the professionals and women looking for their date. Vanderwood had gotten good at this little guessing game.

Goldie watched the newcomer with feigned disinterest. The way he was scanning the room, the way he carried himself, this was a man who knew what he was looking for and how to find it. Judging from his body type, he took care of himself physically too. A guy like that would make an excellent agent. As his eyes scanned over and landed on her, she locked eyes with him, sending a signal that he would understand, that she was what he was looking for, and he was what she was looking for.

The guy was wearing a purple v-neck shirt and black pants with black shoes. He wasn’t dressed badly, but he certainly didn’t bother to match her dress code, an elegant gown of gold which exposed her long legs. Everything about Goldie was gold, from her long blonde hair and golden eyes to the nail polish she wore. He sat next to her, clearly liking what he saw, and reaching for his wallet. “How much?” Straight to the point; she liked that.

“$2,000 an hour if you want to waste my time.” She teased him and saw his eyebrow twitch. Bit of a short temper, that wasn’t so bad either, and could be easily fixed. Still, he seemed incredibly tense, much like a drug addict when he needed his fix. Was he one of those men addicted to sex? Possibly. If so, the agency could get that to a manageable situation too. He nodded, showed her the money, and placed his wallet back into his pants. This one really did know what he was doing, a professional john, for all intents and purposes.

“Come with me, then, handsome.” Goldie stood and started the walk up to her hotel room. She had no intention of sleeping with him; this one was getting recruited, although, she would certainly hand him off to one of her girls so he would be able to get the fix he clearly needed, at least this time.

Vanderwood had a strange feeling with this one. She looked good, and was clearly a professional, but something told him there was more to her than met the eye. This woman was all gold everything, and surprisingly it suited her, where for others her all gold attire might clash. There was an age difference, he was only twenty-one now and she looked to be in her thirties, meaning she was probably in her forties, but that certainly didn’t bother him any. Sex was sex.

He scanned the hotel room, nothing looked out of place, nothing looked suspicious from what he could see, so he entered as this golden woman held the door open. Once she closed the door, she started introducing herself. “You can call me Goldie.” Vanderwood snorted. “I’m not going to call you anything. You’re not going to talk and you’re not going to touch me unless I tell you to.” Had this almost turned into some weird stand off? It felt a bit like it.

A smile broke out on Goldie’s face. “You sure are something, you know that?” Vanderwood was now tensing up more than he had been before, preparing for some sort of attack. Had he misjudged her? She certainly seemed dangerous, but he hadn’t pegged her for the type that was one to attack their johns and steal their money. The smile just got bigger at his reaction. He was perfect. “I have a job for you.”

***

Why had he accepted the offer? Goldie had given him a way out, told him that if he wanted to walk away from her right then and pretend he hadn’t heard a thing, he would be left alone, but if he dared to open his mouth she would find him and kill him. Vanderwood had actually said yes though. Why?

He’d been offered the opportunity for a brand-new identity, but since he was a nobody in the first place, he hadn’t needed that. It wasn’t anything to do with him, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do, and she had offered to help him get his addiction cleaned up. There was no purpose for him otherwise, just a rush to the death hoping he’d get cancer from his smoking. How she could tell that he was getting tired of his sex haze and routine life, he didn’t know, maybe it was just that obvious, or maybe it was her agent training, but either way, now he was in training to become a secret agent for an underground former government agency.

So far, training had been rough, mostly physical, learning how to use a gun, choosing your weapons of choice, learning surveillance techniques, hacking. It really was a lot of work, but it was much better than sitting at home staring at a wall. He’d pretty much given up on living before then, so removing himself from his old life had been nothing to him. The months of training...at first he'd hated getting clean, and he still did sleep with the occasional woman at least once a week, but now at least it felt like he was doing something with his life. It wasn't like he deserved it, living, but this type of life, being a contract killer, disappearing off the grid, that made sense as a penance.

Assignments were apparently being given out to some of the trainee’s today. Vanderwood finished up his food when a hand was on his shoulder and he stiffened. He still wasn’t used to that. One of the agents in charge of teaching the new recruits was constantly doing that. “What?” At least they weren’t expected to be respectful, because Vanderwood had a habit for being brusque and direct. A cheery voice made him internally groan, it was just too damn cheerful, but then there was a manila envelope placed in front of him. “You’ve been given an assignment. Congratulations, you’ve officially graduated Vanderwood. You’ll be getting your serial number and everything.”

“Graduation, huh?” Vanderwood didn’t exactly feel like celebrating. He knew that he was slated to become what Goldie had called an enforcer, that meant killing someone. There was some comfort in knowing that it would be a scumbag, but Vanderwood wasn’t 100% that he could do it yet. Well, he knew he knew how to snap a neck, but killing someone?

The manila envelope hadn’t been opened before, he could tell by the tension on the clamps, but now he slowly opened it, pulling out the files. Vanderwood paid no mind to the other agency trainees that were watching him, reading through the stack of papers in front of him. Apparently, he would be going undercover with a heroine smuggler who worked on the border of Spain and Portugal. Vanderwood would be required to infiltrate and kill the top-level leaders of the smugglers. Great.  
  
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	8. A Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood deals with the stress and questions of whether or not his new job is really something he should be doing.

Vanderwood was getting tired of his mission. It had been several months now of smuggling heroin between Spain and Portugal. On the plus side, he’d learned two new languages and his partner had taught him how to drive…like a maniac. On the negative side, he’d now helped move way more heroine to be sold than he’d ever wanted to in his life.

He was close to the end now, though. At least there was that. Vanderwood had spent his three months undercover on buddying up to the boss. Which had paid off, because now he and his partner were being given exactly the opportunity they needed to finish their mission. His partner, Rex, seemed to be working up for the thrill of the kill.

Rex was a bit of an extremist. Vanderwood was looking forward to wiping these scum off the Earth too, poetic justice for his brother, but Rex seemed to have a lust for the kill. He personally had very little idea about Rex’s background, but the guy was enjoying himself. From what Vanderwood had been able to glean, Rex had grown up in a foster home until he was a teen and ran away, living on the streets before he became a street car racer. He didn’t know much else.

That was just as well, Vanderwood wasn’t telling Rex anything about himself. The one good thing about Rex was that he was an amazing strategist. Vanderwood held up the brawn side while the smaller Raven-haired man prepared plans of attack. He also had some psychology training which was great because it could give them insight on how to properly speak to their superiors, and what made them tick. Seemed it was money for all three of them.

The three bosses had decided to plan a new deal with a supplier, so that’s where Vanderwood and Rex were heading now. They’d been chosen as the bodyguards. Vanderwood snorted. There would certainly be bodies after this meeting. In total, there would be four bodies to take care of after they were done. The new supplier wasn’t on the hit list, but since he wasn’t a civilian, they could kill him at will too. Rex and Vanderwood had both decided that was the best thing, considering otherwise he’d be a witness.

As they entered the hotel room in which the deal was taking place, Vanderwood immediately scanned the room. Everyone else was already here. Rex took his place by the door as Vanderwood continued further into the lavish room. That was another fault of the bosses in his mind. They loved needless luxury. The curtains were a thick velvety fabric that would muffle sound and the room was mostly reds. It would only be too easy for the cleaning crew.

Each of the bosses nodded towards Vanderwood from their position on a couch before he stepped behind them, standing directly behind the middle boss, the top dog. When Rex gave the signal, Vanderwood would snap the neck of this one while Rex shot the visitor. Then they’d go for the other two bosses.

Their plan had good reasoning. The top boss was a large man, not as tall and muscular as Vanderwood, but certainly a force to be reckoned with. The visitor would have brought his own bodyguards whom he could probably call at will, and they had no idea about his weapons specialty. Each of the two other bosses were short and thin, little Italian men. One did, however, wear a set of brass knuckles which he glued small bits of glass to, so they’d have to look out for that. The other carried a gun in the small of his back. Easy enough to stop him from grabbing after snapping the neck of the top boss.

The more the bosses talked about how many clients they could get with this heroine, whether the cut was clean enough that it wouldn’t kill their customers, the more Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched and his body tensed up. He bit his tongue. It wasn’t that he wanted a fix, he wasn’t clean of course, he still sought a woman when he got truly irritated. Really, Vanderwood was angry and actually feeling the urge to kill the men in front of him.

It was stupid really. Vanderwood had worried whether he would ever be able to actually kill someone, and the first mission he’d been given, he wanted to absolutely destroy these men. Poetic justice, right? If every mission it was his duty to kill a drug dealer, Vanderwood had a feeling he would do great in the agency.

His brown eyes locked with Rex’s piercing blue, and his partner winked at him. It was go time. Vanderwood quickly placed his hands on the middle boss’ neck, twisting quickly as a gunshot went off, silencer keeping the sound down to a minimum, but still unmistakable. However, the only thing Vanderwood heard was the cracking sound of the neck in front of him. His stomach lurched. He’d just killed someone, and that sound.

“Vanderwood, move!” Rex was calling him out of his little freeze. The boss to the left was going for his gun. Vanderwood was quick to reach down behind him and take the weapon, pressing it to the back of the man’s head and firing before he felt a sharp pain at his collarbone, hearing that silenced gunshot as the boss that had punched him in the collar bone fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Rex had shot him in the back to keep from hitting Vanderwood as an exit wound casualty, for which Vanderwood was rather grateful. Rex was about to off the last boss when Vanderwood did it for him.

So far, Vanderwood had felt nothing other than the movement of his body and the burning sensation on his collarbone from having shards of glass on those stupid brass knuckles dragged through the skin there, but now, now he felt the adrenaline rushing him. He’d just killed three people. Three people who were moving heroine to be sold, living in the lap of luxury on the backs of addicts like his mother and dead victims like his brother, the types of people his father had worked for and been, or was working for and being.

Rex furrowed his brows at his partner. He hadn’t expected Vanderwood to react like that. The guy was cold, brusque, unfeeling, but it looked like the adrenaline rush that was running through his own body was just as good for his partner as it was for him. A smile spread across his face. Maybe they would get along after all. Vanderwood was an adrenaline junkie too, huh?

It took a minute before Vanderwood could feel the burning pain on his collarbone again over the top of the adrenaline rush. Holy fuck. He had really enjoyed that, and that was bad enough, but that sound. His stomach lurched. Rex came over to pat him on the back. “Hey, I’ll clean off your wound after I call up the clean-up crew.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He felt disgusted with himself. Was this really the life he was going to live? Well, it’s not like he had much choice now, and four heroine smugglers were dead…Vanderwood had to believe he had done a good thing.

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	9. Personal Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood meets a new trainee who has different expectations for their relationship than he does.

Why had they gotten saddled with the pretty one? Vanderwood didn’t like the idea that they were training someone to be an agent in the first place, but why did she have to be attractive? It just made life difficult for him. Particularly because she kept rushing into every little damn thing. Rex seemed to enjoy the whole, teaching the rookie thing. He’d even nicknamed the girl Green, since she was new, not that either of them actually knew her by anything other than that and her serial number.

Maybe teaching was Rex’s true calling. Vanderwood watched silently, hip against the wall, as Rex taught the girl how to shoot a gun. He’d be running the simulation with her, but Rex was taking over the technical aspects. Until they got a new undercover mission, Vanderwood was stuck at the Korea facility. Her vibrant red hair was a short and curly mess, brown eyes big and doe-like, a little mole just above her lip on the left side. What Vanderwood mostly paid attention to was the shape of her body. Tight ass, decent breasts, he could get into that. Still, better to stick to escorts rather than someone he worked with. The more contact you had with them, the more they seemed to want out of you.

He snapped out of his little reverie as she looked over at him, catching his eyes with hers. Vanderwood snorted softly as he watched her look over him in pretty much the same way he just had her. It wasn’t anything new for women to be interested in him, but he couldn’t help but feel just a little ego boost.

***

They’d made it through most of the simulation now, and were entering one of the most dangerous portions. “This part simulates an escape situation. You need to figure out which is the safest escape route while taking out your enemies. That means suppressing fire.” She was nodding to what he was saying, but he wasn’t sure if she was actually listening because the look in her eyes told him she was mostly just feeling the adrenaline rush of it all. “I’ll look for the escape route, a bit of a specialty for me, you take care of the enemies.”

Okay, now she was listening. “I can do both.” If Vanderwood was being honest, he wasn’t surprised. No matter what he told her, she almost always thought she knew better. “No. Stick to what I asked of you. I’ll let you switch next time.” He had a spotless record in the simulators so far, had never been ‘shot’ by an ‘enemy,’ and he wasn’t interested in her fucking that up. “Pay attention and get every single one, got that?” The way she was looking at him, raising her hand to mock him talking, Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched but now she gave him a big smile. “Sure, Vandy, I got it.” Another eyebrow twitch, Vanderwood felt himself tense up and just decided to go for it, entering the next part of the simulation with her not far behind.

For all of five seconds, she’d listened to him. His eyes swept the room, and then she was rushing towards one of the ‘doors’ to test the ‘lock’. “Green!” Shit, one of the fake enemies popped up behind her and he got off a ‘shot’ that direction only to feel a shock in his own side. Fucking shit. Vanderwood heard the alarm sound and the simulation end just as she got ‘shot’ too, watching her yelp at the shock. He pulled of the simulation vest, rubbing at his own side where he’d been shocked. Perfect record officially fucked up.

His eyebrow wasn’t cooling down any time soon. “Look at you Vanderwood, no more perfect record to boast about.” Rex thought it was hilarious. Vanderwood’s eyes were dark as he looked over at Green who only blanched a little, a sheepish look on her face. “I told you. I fucking told you.” He tossed his things into their proper place, heading back towards the dorm areas and his own room. Okay, so he was being extremely pissy over something that wasn’t that huge of a deal, a game really, but if that had been real life with her, he would have been dead and so would she. Not that he valued his life, but he wasn’t about to die because someone else was being a complete idiot. Vanderwood could feel his muscles getting tighter by the second. He’d have to sneak out later and grab an escort.

Soft footfalls were running after him and he recognized the voice calling to him as she got up beside him. “Hey…Vanderwood, I’m really sorry. I just thought…” His own voice cut her off, tight and tense. “You knew better. You just thought you knew better than the experienced agent. As a rookie. You definitely knew better, huh? You realize in real life you would have gotten us both killed?” He’d reached his room now, unlocking it and yanking it open, as he went to close the door, she slipped in, too quick for her own good, irritating him even more. He turned to yell at her to get out, but she was looking up at him with this…sultry look that stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ll make it up to you…in whatever way you want.” The way she said that, the way she looked at him and went to slide her jacket off. Yep. Sex. She meant sex. And Vanderwood wanted sex right now, to relieve the tense and aching muscles that she’d caused to tighten up in the first place. His door closed, and he locked it swiftly, not caring at the moment that he worked with her, that she might think it was something else, too lost in the need for some relief to care that she’d been the one to cause it.

Green couldn’t help the little celebration that was going on in her head as she let her jacket fall to the floor. She’d been interested in Vanderwood from the get go, but he was such a brooding guy. Rex had told her a few things about the way Vanderwood always ended up with an escort whenever he was stressed, so this was her in. Good thing she’d fucked up today. Now her hands went to his belt, wanting to undo it, but he grabbed her hands, confusion making her furrow her brows. “You don’t touch me; I touch you.”

Even the tone of his voice was sexy, low and almost with a little growl in the back of his throat. He may as well have been a walking aphrodisiac. Green didn’t mind the quick way he pulled away her clothes, the rough way he handled her as he gripped her ass, kissing her hard. In fact, she reveled in it. A good fuck was a beautiful thing, and she had a feeling he was a beautiful thing, exactly the way she wanted him to be. Vanderwood was pulling away his own clothes now, and she watched in silence as he pulled away his shirt, the muscles of his well-kept body rippling delightfully. When he took off his pants she internally choked. Holy shit he was well-endowed. Good thing she wasn’t a virgin. That would have hurt like Hell. She noticed that he kept on his gloves, the way he slipped a little square package into the left one to grab for later, but she didn’t care about that either.

Vanderwood wasn’t paying any attention to Green other than the parts he needed. Which as he’d thought before, she had a pretty nice body overall. His hand tangled in her hair as he pressed her back against the cold wall, hearing a soft little whimper that he ignored in favor of kissing her, pulling at her lower lip with his teeth and soliciting moans. He snorted softly as he raised one of her legs, pulling it over his hip so he could press against her, impatient to get the relief he needed. There was always an egotistical satisfaction in that he knew he was probably one of the best fucks the other party had ever had, but that was as far as he cared beyond that.

Green went to wrap her arms around his neck as he paused to get the condom on, but got a look from him that had her dropping her arms away. Right. She couldn’t touch him, but he could touch her. pressed into her, feeling just a little discomfort thanks to how big he was and how little time he’d given her to adjust. “Oh, God, Vanderwood.” That was the one thing he hated about women he picked up rather than escorts. They liked to talk. He pulled her hair rather roughly, mumbling into her ear. “Shut up, don’t talk.” Green bit her lip hard to keep from speaking again, telling him just what she thought of that. With as rough of a grip to her hair as he had, he certainly wasn’t one to mess around.  Clearly he was still used to escorts and not regular women, but she didn’t complain because it was only seconds later that he hit just the right spot and she let out a long moan, hearing him snort right in her ear.

He wasn’t looking at her, not touching her other than to keep her upright when she felt like falling over, but Green was in some sort of ecstasy. Vanderwood was feeling the rush of endorphins and the way his muscles melted away to relaxation. It wasn’t long before he reached his climax, having barely noticed hers just moments before other than to drive deeper for the pleasure of the way she tightened up harder around him. Now he was panting as he pulled away, tossing the condom before he stretched and looked over at the woman now sliding down the wall, panting as well. “Holy fuck.” Again, he snorted, although now he was starting to remember exactly the mistake he’d just made.

Did she think this was going to be something? That’s the only thought that slipped into his head as he pulled on some pajama pants. She was already putting her panties and her little belly shirt on. He hadn’t noticed before, her belly button ring had scratched him a little during sex, but he just shrugged that off. Vanderwood had bigger fish to fry, because she was already walking over to him, a satisfied grin on her face. “That was fun.”

His eyebrow twitched lightly. Damn. “Yeah. That’s all it was.” Probably best to spell it out for her. Sometimes he really felt like a piece of shit when he picked women up for one night stands, and maybe that’s what he was. “I don’t do relationships. I’m not about to make an exception, understand?” Green frowned a little but tilted her head at him. “Who said I wanted anything other than sex?” Of course she did. It was clear how much less tense he was, the way he seemed to be able to breathe easier. She was a gambling addict herself, and she knew exactly what was going on with him. An idea formed almost instantly.

“Just let me help you out when you need it, and I’ll be happy. I don’t need anything else.” Of course, that’s how she would start, become his own personal drug. Eventually he’d let her in more, right? Easy enough. His power was so attractive, the way everyone talked about him at the agency. Anonymity didn't suit her, and he'd take that anonymity away. Brown eyes looked her over, then into her own to try and figure out what her angle was. If she wanted to be his casual hookup, nothing else, he didn’t really care. “As long as you know your place.” That was douchey, but he had to admit he wouldn’t mind not having to shell out the big bucks all the time and training a woman to behave in bed just how he wanted, just in exchange for good sex? Not a bad deal.

***

How long had they been doing this now? Her training was almost up. Green would be out in the field with her own partner within another couple months and he’d be back to escorts. By now he’d moved into his own flat in Seoul. Even though he had the money, he didn’t care enough to get anything other than a studio apartment, although he had ordered an imported bed recently. Vanderwood lit his cigarette and took a long drag. Green was laying next to him, wrapped up in sheets, but now she leaned over and caught his lips with hers catching the smoke that he blew before blowing it out herself.

Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched as her fingers trailed lightly over the little scars on his collarbone. “Off.” She was quick to comply, sitting up in bed next to him as he did the same. Maybe another person would have found what she just did sexy, but he hated it. Brown eyes met brown and she just gave him a smile. He grimaced. “Don’t do that. Are you trying to die?” Vanderwood took another long drag, not seeing the way she furrowed her brows. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been a smoker, mostly just doing it to minimize his stress before he could get a fuck, sometimes trying to smoke instead of have sex, but she usually talked him out of that. That question was just…”Are you?”

He didn’t answer, stubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand. “Let me know when you get your first assignment, where you’re going. If I’m nearby, we can still meet up.” The past few months had been pretty great for him. She always knew what he wanted and how to give it to him. Occasionally she would try something like she had just a few minutes ago, but it was always easy enough to get her off of him. The only problem really was, it seemed like he needed sex a lot more often, and when he tried to get away with replacing sex with smoking she was always getting him to reconsider. Her voice broke his reverie. “What, my boyfriend will miss me if I’m too far away?”

Now he gave her another glare, making her shrink into herself a little. They’d been sleeping together for months and he _still_ didn’t want anything else from her? Vanderwood mumbled darkly. “We aren’t dating. We’ll never be dating.” There was way too much wrong with him to allow for that. The thought of a relationship with someone who was essentially a glorified sex toy? That made him want to vomit too. He was disgusting. It had been pretty obvious to him before, but sleeping with Green only made it more obvious to him. It wasn't just that either...The more he was with her, the more often he needed sex, the more she would poke and prod at him until he needed a fix. There was something she wanted, he'd known that all along somewhere deep down.

Vanderwood was processing it slowly, biting at his tongue and moving further away from her. She was using him, wasn't she? For what, he had no idea, just to get a boyfriend? It was stupid, too stupid. He was stupid. Had it just taken her actually suggesting they were something more than fuck buddies to make him wake the fuck up?

Green didn’t seem to notice that side of him, the reason behind why he would try to smoke instead of have sex sometimes, thinking that was the only other way to cope. She wasn't even noticing the way he was internally panicking. No, she had her own priorities. Green lightly ran her hand through his hair, deciding it was about time she broke the rules. Maybe if she got him turned on enough, she could get her way? Let him know she was worth more to him than he thought? Vanderwood froze up at the contact, and then she was sliding her hand down his back, mumbling into his ear. “You could let me move in, I’ll be your own personal drug whenever you need it, any time.”

No. There was no way…Was that what she’d become? His own personal drug? What was it she wanted from him? She had a habit for trying to earn records, make a name at the agency and he knew the other agents talked about them. Was that what this was? He hadn't wanted anything more from her than sex, but the idea that she was trying to say she meant something to him when all she'd done was use him for her own gains and make his addiction worse... Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched, and he tensed up hard, taking her hand and removing it from him, dropping it into her lap. “Don’t touch me.” God, he was getting really tense. Was that what she was going for? Of course it was. Why? How could he only be realizing now?

She was busy thinking that she was getting what she wanted on some level. At least if he was irritated it wouldn’t take much to get him to agree to sex. “Come on, Vandy honey. I’ll make the stress go away, and we can sleep in the same bed rather than me running off all the time.” Once again, she reached out to touch him and this time was met with a hard slap to the face. The fact that his hand was gloved didn’t make it any gentler.

Vanderwood had officially reached his breaking point, getting up out of bed now and pulling on his pajama pants. “I told you I didn’t want anything more than that, and I definitely don’t want you to continue feeding my habit. Get out. I don’t want to see you again.” Green put her hand to her cheek staring at him flabbergasted. He wasn’t even fucking looking at her. Vanderwood was breaking up with her like they’d never even been something. “But I’ve done so much for you! I was there whenever you needed-”

He cut her off, going to the door and holding it open for her. “Sex. Whenever I needed sex. Fun fact, I need help. Not sex.” His addiction was taking over his life again, and he needed to reel it back, had been trying to reel it back, and she had only been making it worse. The worst part of it really was that she’d _known_ all this time. Vanderwood’s eyebrow was twitching again, not seeing her going towards the door, causing his volume to rise higher than it ever had around her. “I said get the fuck out!”

Green had been staring at him again, but now she scrambled to throw on her clothes. “You’re a dick, you’re a fucking dick, you know that?” She was just throwing whatever hate at him that she could as she grabbed her stuff, stopping to look up at him with tears in her eyes. Vanderwood _almost_ felt sorry for her, but he’d told her from the beginning and this entire time she’d been using his weakness against him trying to get something out of him that he didn’t want to give. As soon as she was out of the door, he slammed it, leaning his head against it.

The next morning, he put in his transfer, claiming he was tired of the waiting around while Rex trained rookies and that he needed some real work to do. It was granted to him almost immediately. Apparently, they needed someone to partner up with some guy and go to college with him. Vanderwood didn’t care either way, he took the opportunity as soon as it was offered without even reading it. What he needed was to get away from Green. From what he heard, she ended up assigned as Rex’s new partner, and so be it. He would be avoiding her and probably even all redheads for the rest of his life.

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	10. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood is given his new assignment as a handler. His new partner turns out to be more complicated to work with than he thought.

Vanderwood kept rereading the new assignment, babysitting some teenager with a ridiculous name ‘Luciel.’ It went on to list the boy’s age and Vanderwood’s specific duties which included watching over the kid as he took his college classes and completed his training. Apparently Luciel was some sort of genius that would be entering the hacking division. Once the kid was old enough Vanderwood would be reinstated as an enforcer with the kid as his partner, well he’d still be a handler.

Really, he wanted nothing to do with this bullshit, and he was moving countries _again_. Going to America until they would eventually be stationed in Korea again which was lacking a hacker team. He sighed and bit his tongue. Still, it was better than sticking around Green. That woman was still trying to get in his pants. Not that he wouldn’t let her if only she wasn’t trying to stay there as a means of controlling him. It’s not like you could fight an assignment, anyway. He’d been the one to ask for a transfer as it was, but he couldn’t help but think that it was a terrible idea to put _him_ in charge of keeping a teenager alive. He’d fucked that up once before.

His eyebrow twitched as he thought about it, making a fist with his right hand that had his leather gloves creaking. Rex watched him casually from the other side of the table. “I’ll see you around, Vanderwood. The partnership was nice while it lasted.”

Vanderwood looked up at the raven-haired man, Rex’s blue eyes giving away that he really wasn’t bothered at all. In all the time the two had been partner’s, nearly half a year now, they hadn’t bonded. They ate together and slept in the same quarters sometimes, that was it. As far as being effective, they were a killing team, but that was as far as their connection went. “Yeah. Nice.” Rex chuckled a little at Vanderwood’s brusque response. That was just like the guy, he was so unfeeling unless he was putting a drug dealer out of business. “See you around.” With that, Rex was gone and Vanderwood was left looking through the rest of his files about Luciel Choi.

***

What was this kid going to be like? Vanderwood wasn’t particularly interested other than the fact he would be stuck sharing a dorm room with the boy until after he graduated. They were going to be in a mass of computer and tech classes. Thankfully for Vanderwood, he didn’t actually have to pay attention. He’d been given some training in this already, everyone got trained in everything and then found their specialty. Thanks to his ability to hack already, however slowly, his grades were pretty much agency guaranteed. The kid was the one that was really going to school. His main position was making sure that Luciel passed, and the plan was to graduate early. The kid hadn’t chosen an agent name yet, but that would probably come later once he was actually granted active duty. His current number was #34707.

Vanderwood approached the dorm room door, garnering looks from the other students all around him. They were going to get a lot of looks. He would get them thanks to his appearance and general air, and Luciel was just a kid attending an Ivy League school. It was going to be great.

The door opened and Vanderwood was surprised that he didn’t have to look down nearly as far as he thought he would need to. He was still surprised at just how vibrantly red the boy’s hair was, and those golden eyes were unique in their own right. Why. Had he been given. Another redhead. “Hey Zero Seven, Vanderwood.” He extended his gloved hand and the boy took it rather nervously. “L-luciel.”

Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad, but the kid was going to need to gain some confidence if he was going to ever get to do field work. If he was a hacker, maybe he’d never get field work. Vanderwood started settling in, watching the kid reading a massive book on coding from his bed. Maybe he would never get to do field work again. He snorted and looked up at the ceiling. That wouldn’t be so bad, except for the fact that it would get boring.

Vanderwood rather liked the danger. It gave him something to do, and the adrenaline rush wasn’t bad. Not as good as a fuck or a long drag on a cigarette, but it was something. He’d honestly been expecting to die in the line of duty one of these days. The only reason he wasn’t dead already was because he simply couldn’t wrap his head around death. If death came by someone else’s hand, he would welcome it just fine, but he wasn’t about to just let it happen.

He missed Caleb and lived every day with the guilt, being with this kid wasn’t helping. For all he knew, he was going to kill this boy too, just like his brother. His muscles started to tense up, and he bit his tongue. A cigarette probably wasn’t going to help him much right now.

“What are you thinking about?” The kid had piped up and Vanderwood looked over at him. So the redhead had a bit of a curious streak, and maybe some balls after all to interrupt someone over twice his size when they were lost in thought. He could also just be stupid. “Don’t worry about it.” He startled the boy a little with his response, but the redhead then just nodded and went back to his reading. Maybe it really wouldn’t be so bad.

***

The kid was some sort of OCD, always cleaning, going to his classes in exact order, and following every single order that was given to him to a t. It was great for Vanderwood, because that was just how he liked it. Vanderwood hadn’t been in charge of Luciel for long when something arrived in the mail for him from a ‘Rika’. He raised an eyebrow as he handed the package over to the boy whose eyes lit up even more than usual. This was the first time he suspected the kid of stepping out of line. “I hope to God you ordered something. People shouldn’t know where you live.” The boy was too excited to even hear him, and Vanderwood watched as he unwrapped some sort of storybook. “Thanks, Vanderwood!”

Vanderwood shrugged before sitting back down on his bed. “Yeah, whatever.” It wasn’t long after that before Luciel #34707 became Agent 707EXTREME. The boy had a complete change of personality, and the morning that he started calling him Mary was the morning that Vanderwood tased someone that wasn’t attacking him for the first time. To his surprise and great annoyance, the boy had grown a set of balls and a sense of humor that was dangerously reminiscent to that of his brother.

“Jesus.” Vanderwood flipped his taser into the air over and over, catching it before tossing it into the air again. He essentially had a far more annoying Caleb on his hands now, but at least the kid was surviving, and he never partied, so he knew for sure this one was going to live. For the time being. Vanderwood bit his tongue at the thought.

More and more he was stuck with those feelings thanks to the similarities between the two teens, but it also didn’t help that the kid had started glaring at him whenever he smoked or brought a woman over to finally get his muscles relaxed. Most of the time it was little mister ‘Agent 707EXTREME’ that was the cause of his muscles clenching painfully to the point where Vanderwood thought he would crush in on himself. He was babysitting a brat, and this was his partner now, great. Redheads were awful. No exceptions. At least once college was over, back to more missions.

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	11. The Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood and Seven get stuck between a rock and a hard place. It appears they end up choosing the hard place.

He squinted into the darkness. This was the first field mission he was on with Seven, his newest partner. Seven had at least put most his joking aside for this. Even though he was an adult now, the redhead was still the same ass he’d become after getting that stupid storybook. Vanderwood would never understand what changed for him at that point, but Seven was just like Caleb.

 _Seven was just like Caleb._ Vanderwood bit his tongue. It was true. They were even nearly the same age. Seven was just a bit older than Caleb when he'd met him, not by much. He dressed similarly too. Vanderwood sighed and tapped his foot. Where was his signal?

Vanderwood was standing in a dark hallway, his hip leaned against the wall. the end of hall was where Seven would be, hacking through the security system to get them inside the room that contained the main computer system. They were starting a sting on an anti-agency. There had been a lot of talk about the new rival agency even before Seven and he had been assigned this job.

From what Vanderwood had heard, Goldie had been found out to have been creating her own secret spy ring, and the majority of the spies as well as Goldie herself had been terminated. It was a cautionary tale for everyone to stay in their proper place on the supposed ‘good side,’ as well as scaring everyone into the knowledge that they were all expendable, that there really was no ‘good side.’

Finally, a light flashed at him three times in quick succession. Seven was in. Vanderwood peered down the opposite end of the hallway once more before making his way to where Seven now was. His job was to be the brawn, the backup, while Seven hacked into the mainframe. There were a few of the spies who had escaped, and this was supposedly their newest hideout.

Vanderwood’s mouth dropped open at the number of computers and monitors inside this little room. For a small rival agency, they sure had a lot going on. _Whatever_ , his job was to get Seven in and the information out. Seven too, of course, as much as Vanderwood was irritated by the guy and wanted to tase him every ten seconds, Seven was getting out of here alive. For a first mission, it had seemed pretty simple, but the longer it was taking the redhead to get through the firewall, the more anxious Vanderwood was starting to feel.

Something wasn’t quite right. He just had a feeling. Vanderwood bit his tongue, trying to think. So far, the plan had gone perfectly, everything was going the way it was supposed to. Actually, Rex had been the one to set this plan up, or so Vanderwood had heard, so it was meticulously planned if that was the case. The redhead muttered, “Finally.” Good, he was in. Vanderwood shot him a glance just to make sure that the information was downloading as it should. They weren’t supposed to read any of it, just make sure it downloaded. Vanderwood was mildly curious, but it wasn’t his place. He did his job and got out, that was the way of things for him.

He heard a sound, scraping, metal against metal, like someone was dragging something along the outside hallway. His hand went to the little gun at the small of his back. They had a visitor. Vanderwood didn’t have the time to think about _how_ they’d gotten this visitor, having not set off any alarms, but he did have time to use the window in the door in front of him to see the reflection of the person coming their way. Seven shot Vanderwood a quick frightened glance. It was his first mission, it made sense for the kid to be scared, but Vanderwood shook his head at him, silently letting him know that he needed to stop freaking out.

The guy in the reflection was ugly, but not just ugly, something about him was horribly wrong. His face was so square, his body broad, and the oversized jacket he had on didn’t help. Vanderwood was barely making out the features, but from what little he was seeing, this man looked like an orangutan with a crazy serial killer smile. Vanderwood made sure the safety on his gun was off, waiting for the man to get closer. The closer he got, the more excited he seemed to become, tapping what appeared to be a knife rhythmically against the side of the hallway.

Now was as good a time as he was going to get. Vanderwood jumped out from the doorway, pinpointing where the man was. The man went to duck, but Vanderwood had already estimated the man’s height, so he only put himself _into_ Vanderwood’s aim. A gunshot went off, momentarily silencing everything, thanks to the enclosed space of the hallway. His ears were ringing, but it would go away before long. There wasn’t the option to wait, sometimes. Someone grabbed his arm, yanking a few times and Vanderwood flicked his eyes their way. It was Seven of course, he was holding the disk, so they needed to go.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that they’d been ordered to get the disk out of there _immediately_ , Vanderwood would have made sure to snap the man’s neck. The man who was still eerily smiling at him even as he groaned in pain from the gunshot that had probably shattered his shoulder. Vanderwood pressed his back to Seven’s as they proceeded on their way out, scanning every which way.

They had gotten out of the building, and the car was in sight when a little flash of movement caught Vanderwood’s eye. The ringing had toned down, but it was still irritating, his head throbbing a little now. At least he could hear his own voice as he called out to Seven. “Move!” That’s when she stepped into their sights. “Aw, you saw me.” Another annoying redhead? This one looked an awful lot like a girl he would have chosen to fuck at a bar. She was shapely, all curves, but she was obviously a little harbinger of death. Her heels were spiked, he noted that as they clicked on the road, stepping closer to them, gun poised on Seven who was holding the disk. “Put that down or die.”

“You realize I’ve also got a gun, right?” Vanderwood’s ears had stopped ringing, but he was probably still shouting a bit. The woman threw her head back in laughter. “You’re also the idiot who shot a gun in a hallway. I’ll bet you’re at least a little off your aim thanks to that. Ears still ringing? Or has that stopped?” They were caught between a rock and a hard place. Try to outshoot her, or give up the disk and get terminated if they didn’t manage to get it back.

Vanderwood snorted softly. She was right about his ears too. His aim would probably be off. It wasn’t like he really felt dizzy, but it wasn’t unusual for that not to happen until your aim really counted. “Put it down, fellow redhead.” Seven looked up at Vanderwood, fear evident in the younger man’s eyes. Sure, he was scared, but he was stepping up. That’s right…He wasn’t just a kid anymore. Seven was eighteen, and a fully-fledged agent.

Vanderwood nodded, keeping the woman in his periphery. He would find a way to make this work. As Seven bent to put the disk on the ground, of course he retrieved his gun. Once he was standing again, the woman’s smile grew wider. “Bye, fellow redhead.” Vanderwood saw the intent before she pulled the trigger. She was a gloater, it was only too obvious. Seven was about to get shot. Vanderwood shifted, shoving the younger man out of the way. The gunshot had his ears ringing again, but that was nothing compared to the burning sensation in his chest. Holy Hell, his entire body was burning, and not in a pleasant way. There was another gunshot, the faint sound of voices over the ringing. Vanderwood was struggling to breathe. His lungs were burning now too.

The girl was running away. She actually wasn’t that fantastic of a shot. After getting off her shot, she had hidden herself behind a portion of a nearby truck, but when she’d peeked out to take another Seven’s way, he’d managed to shoot the gun from her hands, and then she was gone. Seven watched her go, knowing that he couldn’t let his guard down until she was for sure gone.

He wasn’t sure if he was more pissed or afraid. It was just like Vanderwood to do this kind of thing. Vanderwood was so cold and unfeeling, but he took a bullet for him. In part, it was his job, but on another level, Seven knew it meant more, because Seven felt the same way. This guy was as much his brother as his blood brother was. Much more irritating, but definitely family.

As soon as she was out of sight, he was on his knees, shoving the disk into his pocket before he looked Vanderwood over. It was a decent caliber shot, he could tell that much. Vanderwood was staring off into space, not really looking at him. There was only one thing Seven knew that would get his partner riled up no matter what the situation. Hopefully it would work now, too. “C’mon Mary, don’t be like that. I need my maid to clean my house.”

Vanderwood could barely make out the words, but he groaned, coughing up a bit of blood. “I’m fucking dying and you’re teasing my ass? I wish I could…tase you.” Seven smiled, good, he was pissed. The redhead ran off to grab a kit out of the back of the car. He could at least get a tight bandage wrapped around Vanderwood to keep him alive until they could get to the agency’s infirmary. “You can tase me later. I won’t even run.” The guy was hard to lug into the car, but he would be alright. Seven was still terrified, but he had to believe that Vanderwood would be alright.

***

He groaned and opened his eyes. His throat felt dry. “Oh, hey there, Mary.” Oh, for shit’s sake. Vanderwood tried to push himself up out of bed, but found that he absolutely didn’t have the strength. He looked around him and then down at his chest. Right. He’d taken a bullet for the little shit calling him a girl’s name. His eyes found Seven’s and he grunted. “Zero Seven. You’re a douche.” Seven just smiled and patted the bandage, making Vanderwood growl in pain. “You too, Mary.” The guy deserved it for taking a bullet that hadn’t been meant for him.

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	12. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to recover from after Vanderwood was wounded in the last chapter, but somehow he just seems to be getting himself into more trouble.

It had been way too long since he’d last gotten a good fuck, and this girl had offered herself to him. Now, she was just sitting there watching him as he got dressed to leave. She wasn’t a hooker, that was a bad one on him, but she didn’t seem interested in keeping him there either. Seemed to him that she had been as sexually frustrated as he was, although, most certainly not for the same reason. Vanderwood pulled his shirt on, covering his newest scars, the large indented circle on his left pectoral and the smaller indented circle on his back.

That bullet wound had taken months to heal, so long in fact that he’d had time to learn Italian for their next mission. What a life. Vanderwood snorted softly at himself and the curvy blonde in the bed pushed up onto her forearm. “What are you snorting at, handsome?”

He didn’t particularly feel like talking to her. It always grated on his nerves when the women wanted to talk. Even hookers would talk sometimes, but the civilians always talked the most. Bad on him for not having had the patience to find a good hooker, but Hell, at least now he felt like he could breathe again after having been cooped up in bed for months. Even worse, after having been cooped up in bed for months in Seven’s house. It had been easier than staying at his little apartment.

“Just snorting at myself.” His eyes trailed over the woman’s body. She was pretty, very sexy, hard to believe that she was that sexually frustrated to just throw herself at him as soon as he walked in the door, but maybe she had her reasons. Vanderwood finished getting dressed by pulling on his jacket and gloves. “Bye now.” He grunted it at her as he left the house, and she didn’t bother to answer, which was great for him.

As he opened the door, a white-haired man with ruby colored eyes looked up at him. The guy was maybe four inches shorter than Vanderwood and had a rattail of his peculiar colored hair. His face was impeccably molded, angular and beautiful. If he dressed right, or wrong, he could easily be taken as a woman. That just had Vanderwood cringing with bad memories. “Excuse me.” He slipped past the dumbfounded man. It wasn’t long after he’d started down the hallway of the woman’s apartment building that he heard the yelling. ‘You cheated on me?’ It sounded more hurt than angry, but there was definitely anger in his tone too.

Vanderwood turned back towards the room, frozen in place. Well, that explained a lot. Honestly, he felt a little sick. Sleeping with someone else’s woman was something he would never have put on his bucket list, but now he had crossed it off nonetheless. Great. Just another of his many wrong-doings. There was nothing he could do about it now, and it wasn’t like he had known, so he just made his way out of the apartment building.

***

The day had gone by as his usual schedule. Vanderwood had watched some secret agent movies and yelled at the TV that they were doing it wrong, made food for himself and the redhead, which Seven barely ate in favor of these disgusting chips that he’d somehow won a warehouse full of – Vanderwood didn’t want to know – and he’d cleaned the house, slowly so as not to do too much now that he was finally allowed out of bed and out of the house again.

As Seven’s handler, Vanderwood spent most of his time cleaning up after the kid while Seven worked which he was really good at getting sucked into, so the cleaning would take all of Vanderwood’s focus too. Still, he couldn’t get the idea out of his mind that he’d slept with someone he _really_ shouldn’t have. It just made him feel gross. Maybe he should head to the bar again to _actually_ have a drink and a smoke. Picking up a hooker tonight was out of the question, even though he knew he could easily go again.

Vanderwood went to the same bar, figuring that the blonde wouldn’t be there again, and he was right. Still, something felt weird. There were eyes on him. He scanned the room. It seemed this was a bit of a local hang out for motorcycle gangs. Vanderwood had seen several of the vehicles outside of the bar, but now he saw that there was a group of similarly dressed in leather men over in the corner of the bar, and for whatever reason, they were watching him.

He shrugged and sat at the bar, feigning dropping his guard. If there were eyes on him, it was better to pretend he thought nothing of it. He ordered some hard liquor and drank it back. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching, not just one set but several. Their boots left heavy thuds, so they couldn’t possibly hope to sneak up on him. Vanderwood turned in his chair to look at the three thugs that had approached. This really wasn’t good. Whatever they wanted, he would have to give, because he wasn’t in the state to really fight.

“Hello there, gentleman, what can I do for you?” That wasn’t well received, a rather tall one with short blond hair, the underside a dark brown spoke up, his arms crossed and stance indicating that he was looking for a fight, not yet ready to swing, but looking for a reason. “You can stop sleeping with our women.”

Oh, so that was it huh? So, the albino man he’d seen must have been some sort of member of this gang, then. Come to think of it, he had been wearing the same leather jacket these goons were. The tall one spoke again. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Vanderwood sighed and placed his glass on the bar top. “I don’t have much to say other than that I didn’t know. She threw herself at me, and I was in the mood.” That was the God’s honest truth, but a short one to the right side of the one that had spoken grabbed a bottle from the bar counter and smashed it. “That’s my sister you’re talking about!” Vanderwood jumped up to avoid his swing, but he was too slow, and now there was a cut down over his left hip. It was better than getting a cut to his crotch, which was where the guy had been aiming. “Hey, hey, let’s calm down.” Maybe reasoning would work? Probably not, all three looked angry now, but then he heard the door open.

“Hey, Zen. Glad you got my text. We found the douche who screwed your woman.” The tall one was obviously the general leader of this group. Vanderwood turned his head just enough to watch the albino from his periphery. The guy looked heartbroken, and it made Vanderwood’s heart clench. That look on his face was Vanderwood’s fault. At this point, Vanderwood was getting ready to accept his fate, but then the albino spoke up. “Back off guys, it’s not his fault. Vira was trying to get back at me.”

Okay, Vanderwood hadn’t been expecting that, and the albino was apparently full of surprises. He turned to Vanderwood now, noticing his wound. “Holy shit, you cut him? You need to get that looked at. Come with me.” Vanderwood just shook his head. “No, I can take care of it myself.” His jacket pocket had everything he needed to stitch himself up, and he reached in to grab it, showing it to the younger man. “I just need somewhere to sit where I know I won’t get cut open further.” The younger man gave him a weird look, but didn’t try to argue with him, which was rather refreshing.

The Zen guy nodded towards the others and the tall one reluctantly pushed the other two goons along with him. It didn’t take long to stitch himself up as Vanderwood sat outside in the open air with Zen. “Hey, man. I really didn’t know.” The albino had been pretty quiet up until now, but his eyes roamed over the taller man before he shrugged. “I know…I’m sorry about my…buddies. They get a little excitable sometimes.” Zen pulled out a pack of smokes which Vanderwood recognized as Black Angel brand. Vanderwood could really go for a smoke, although he preferred the rough taste of generic cigarettes, but he was pleased when the albino held out the pack for him to take one.

Vanderwood popped the cig in the corner of his mouth before producing his own lighter with which he lit his own and then the albino’s before taking a long drag. His muscles relaxed slowly, his other addiction not nearly as soothing as sex, but it got the job done when he needed it. It was killing him slowly, but Vanderwood really didn’t care. He was most likely going to die early anyway, and it wasn’t like he had anything to live for.

Zen piped up again after a moment. “To tell you the truth, I’m leaving the gang. I’ve gotten a bigger role at my acting job. That’s why Vira was always so mad at me, too…I’m addicted to my job more than I’m interested in her.” Vanderwood just nodded. He didn’t know what else to do. Guy talk wasn’t exactly something he really did. The last person he’d had a heart to heart with was dead, and the others he’d always just pushed away.

Once their cigs were down to the filter, they each stomped them out. Zen turned to Vanderwood and offered him his hand, which the brunet took and gave a solid shake. It was weird, but whatever, it wasn’t like he was going to see the guy again. “No worries about Vira…But if you ever want to come see a show, look up my name.” For a heartbroken guy, Zen could really put on a smile. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Vanderwood laid in bed, fingers playing along the bandage of what would most certainly be a new scar. Just another to add to the collection. It wasn’t like he didn’t have enough already. At least this one wasn’t going to take months to heal. His emotional scars were worse than the physical anyway, and there was no healing from that. Zen…he would do his best to forget the guy. It was safer for him, but if Vanderwood ever saw him again, he’d have to give the guy a smoke to return the favor.

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	13. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood manages to get himself in trouble with the latest mission, a double-agent causing an ambush to be possible.

Vanderwood honestly hated Italy. People wanted to stand too close to him and they talked way too much with their hands. At least they were short, because if Italians were a taller people, he would have gotten hit in the face plenty of times. Seven almost seemed to be treating this mission like a vacation. It was his first mission abroad, so on some level it made sense, but at the same time, Vanderwood wanted to tase him at least once every five minutes.

Why were they even here still? That’s right. There was some member of the other organization here that was working with the mafia. The ‘mafia’, Vanderwood didn’t really believe they even existed, but the guy was working with some sort of organization. Vanderwood turned down the side street towards the little hovel Seven had clued him in on. It was finally time for the hit. Seven had spent the past few weeks trying to figure out which cell phone belonged to whom in the group of people they had been following. The kid had wanted to come along, but there was no way Vanderwood was letting him anywhere near a hit mission.

It was eerily silent for being broad daylight in a poorer neighborhood. Usually there would be more children around. Vanderwood furrowed his brows, starting to feel something nagging at his mind. He bit his tongue and kept going. No point chickening out until he had proof that something was up, but he pressed the little emergency tracker he had in his pocket and swallowed it. Now they’d send someone if he didn’t check in within an hour. It wasn’t even a full minute later when Vanderwood picked the lock and entered the little hovel that he scanned left and right, the right was what got him, an ambush. One whack and he was out.

***

“Fucking shit…” His head was ringing, and he was struggling to remember what had happened. Right…the hit. It had seemed so routine, but the target had apparently been lying in wait, completely aware of what was coming rather than surprised. Vanderwood opened his eyes slowly, taking in the room. It was small, a single door in front of him, and bare except for a table full of tools. They looked to be old, rusted, some knives, some hammers. Great. Those were probably for him. Other than that, there was nothing there.

Vanderwood leaned his head back and tested the ropes his hands were tied to the armrests with. They were solid, and so were the ones on his legs. So today he was either going to die, or the agency would send an extraction team. Was he valuable enough for that? All Vanderwood knew was that he’d have to wait the torture out for at least an hour to be sure, granted he didn’t know how long it had been since he was knocked out. At the very least ten minutes, at the most, maybe a half hour.

Dying really didn’t sound so bad. He’d honestly been waiting for it for years, knew it was coming at some point, but he didn’t have much more time to dwell on that thought before the door opened and a familiar face appeared. That damn redheaded bitch. “Oh look, it’s the great Korean Casanova.” She was speaking in Korean, a language he’d gotten used to only speaking with Seven lately but that he knew better than Italian anyway.

“I’m not Korean.” So, there was more than one agent from the enemy agency in town, clearly, since she hadn’t been the target. “What am I supposed to call you again? The great whore?” Antagonizing her seemed really smart, but he was most likely on the way to his death bed already. Since their last encounter, they’d been able to gather some information, and included in that was that her job was generally espionage and quiet assassination, infiltrating a man’s bed and poisoning him. Poison was her weapon of choice. That wasn’t a pleasant thought, since that probably meant a slow and painful death, but since it looked like she meant to torture him anyway, what did it matter? It would be slow and painful either way.

She flipped her vibrant red hair over her shoulder before catching his eye with those venomous green ones of hers. “Call me Jessica.” Vanderwood snorted. “Jessie it is.” He wasn’t about to be nice to this woman. She’d already nearly killed him once. “So, ready to finish the job? Can we just get this over with?”

There was a little glint in her eye which only made him more irritated. His muscles were starting to clench up too, great. It wouldn’t be long before he was irritated beyond belief, he figured. “Actually, I’m supposed to get just a specific piece of information off you.” Jessica went to the table, her spiked heels clicking against the concrete floor in a way that only irritated him more. “You’re not going to get anything out of me.”

Now she was really smiling. “If you say so, handsome.” She chose a short-bladed knife, seemingly sharp and clean, unlike most of the items on the little table. “All I really need from you is who tipped you off on this mission in Italy.” Vanderwood happened to know, which was great, but even if he didn’t know, she would probably still torture him. “You’re not getting anything out of me.” He repeated it, knowing what would be coming, or at least some of it. He’d been cut before, but not by a knife. What a great time for a new life experience. Was he ever not a cynical asshole even in a moment like this?

Jessica approached slowly, the sound of those spiked heels against the concrete putting his teeth on edge. Vanderwood made sure to clench his jaw instead of biting his tongue. If the agency _did_ show up, he would prefer to not have choked on his tongue. The cold blade brushed against his neck, making him want to shiver. “Just kill me.” That actually made her pause for a second. He couldn’t possibly mean that. If he was still alive after she’d shot him, clearly, he wanted to live. She slowly pushed up the sleeve of his left arm. “Who?”

Jessica dragged the blade in a curve down his forearm, making him clench his jaw even harder. That stung more than he thought it should have. She waited for him to talk, bending to look him directly in the eyes. Something in Vanderwood reacted, and he hated it, the tenseness in him seeking relief and knowing there was a woman right there. Still, knowing her, maybe she would go for it anyway, as distasteful as sleeping with someone like her might be. “How about instead of jabbing me, you let me take care of you, huh?” Vanderwood put on his typical smirk, the kind that always seemed to get him a win.

Wait…was it actually working? It had been a _bit_ of a long-shot, but now Jessica was smiling even broader, leaning in. Her lips brushed against his and he leaned forward as much as he could manage to take possession of them. Even tied up, his dominance shone through. Granted, if he needed to let her do what she wanted in order for him to get out of this and kill her, well then, he would let it happen. His lips started to burn, and she leaned back. “Please enjoy my poison lipstick. It tends to leave some blisters.”

God, fucking damn it. Then she was dragging the knife down in a curve in the opposite direction on his arm, leaving a long burning x. If this was the way it was going to go, he might as well just shut down completely now. Vanderwood attempted to blank his mind, letting the pain be the pain, but not bothering to think about anything else. If he was going to die, he was going to die. If not, then not. Fighting it was as pointless as quitting smoking when he had no future to speak of.

A loud clanging sound had him opening his eyes to see Jessica looking up towards the ceiling. Voices and footsteps. There were some already sounding like they were coming down the stairs. The agency had decided he was valuable after all. Vanderwood snorted as he watched Jessica try to decide whether to kill him or make her escape.

Apparently, self-preservation won out in the end, because she pressed a kiss to his forehead leaving another painful burn before she disappeared behind him. Really, it wasn’t smart to antagonize the enemy when they already seemed to have a vendetta against you, it was stupid, but he was so done. “Bye, Jessie.” Someday he was going to kill that poison bitch. He heard a heavy metal door open and close and then the door in front of him opened again to reveal Seven and a couple other agents. “So…bit, of an ambush, Mary?” Now that he knew Vanderwood was safe, Seven switched immediately from his serious mode to his joking asshole side. Vanderwood wanted to tase him already.

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	14. Mistakes Were Maid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Vanderwood had a bad feeling about this mission from the beginning, but he wasn't expecting to have to change clothes.

Seven was packing the things in the car before they would be on their way to the hotel that the target was staying at. First, Seven would get them into the room posing as a maid, and then gather the information from the target’s laptop. Vanderwood was just the backup again. He much preferred this to doing hits. However, the redhead was insisting on dressing up as a female maid. Ever since that first time that he’d dressed up for a mission and managed to trick Vanderwood, this just seemed like Seven’s new ‘thing’.

“Hey, remember that one time, Mary…” Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched as his hand went to remove his taser from its hooked position on his leg. The leather straps had flicked away easily, Vanderwood pushing away from the car with his hip to lock eyes with the eccentric younger man. Seven raised his hands, just a flicker of fear under the amused smile. “Nevermind, forget it.” He definitely remembered. It wasn’t that anything had happened. All he’d done was walk into the hallway Vanderwood had been waiting in, but he’d _let_ Vanderwood hit on him. It had taken ages for Vanderwood to wash the revolting feeling off of his skin. It was like he’d hit on his brother and that was just, no. So much no.

Vanderwood just wanted some peace and quiet as they were driving, but that didn’t seem like something Seven was going to allow. The redhead was already putting on his long red wig, and Vanderwood was just trying to pretend that the kid wasn’t already in his maid’s dress. Seven made a convincing woman, and that was irritating as all Hell. Not that it had any effect on Vanderwood now other than making him want to jump out of the moving vehicle in irritation.

His hands tensed on the steering wheel as soon as Seven started talking in his ‘female voice,’ and it wasn’t long before his eyebrow was twitching again. “I brought you an outfit too!” Seven held it up cheerily before giving Vanderwood a wink and sticking his tongue out at the brunet. “See, we can be matching! Just in case we need to run.”

 _God_. Vanderwood was so thankful he had more sense than to grab the little idiot right now, because otherwise they’d be in the ditch or have crashed into one of the other vehicles on the road. “I will _not_ be wearing that. Today or any other day. Throw it out the window.” He glanced over at the redhead with as serious a glare as he could muster, which was a pretty serious death glare. Seven just laughed and tucked the dress into his ‘purse.’ Vanderwood could feel his muscles clenching. Oh good. Irritation before a mission was just his favorite thing.

Now the redhead was just laughing harder. “You’d make a very convincing woman, Mary.” Vanderwood bit his tongue and took a deep breath before replying, his jaw clenched rather painfully. “At 6′ and as much as I work out. Sure. Very convincing.” The redhead wasn’t going to stop laughing, and Vanderwood’s eyebrow wasn’t stopping its twitching anytime soon.

At least once they got to the hotel, Seven had gotten serious. Vanderwood was leaning his head back against the wall outside of the hotel room now. It wouldn’t be long before the redhead came out of the room with the information they needed. The agency’s newest virus would be used to clear out the laptop after Seven was done too.

After hours of going over just how crucial it was that they make sure to remember to bring the flashdrive containing the virus back, Vanderwood was going to be damn happy if it ended up not working. It was just an added liability on the agency’s part the way they currently had it set up. After all the hours Vanderwood had spent watching Seven in his computer classes at college, he was certain that there was some better way to put the virus into use, although _what_ way eluded him.

Seven stuck his head out of the door again just as Vanderwood was about to see what was taking so long. Their file extractors were even faster than anyone else’s thanks to Seven’s genius abilities with computers and engineering. “Got it?” The redhead nodded, his wig staying on perfectly. How he had gotten so good at dress up was no mystery because now Seven did it all the damn time. Vanderwood bit his tongue and motioned with his head that they should get out of there. His eyes swept the hotel hallway again before he walked off in his designated direction. Seven would act as a maid for another couple of rooms downstairs near the exit before Vanderwood would join him after having a drink at the hotel bar. Nice and simple, quick in, quick out.

***

“What do you mean you left the virus there?” Yup. Vanderwood was pissed. In fact, it felt like there was so much bunched up energy in his body that it needed an escape. That liability, it really was one. A major one. “I’ll be down in a second.” It would have been much more satisfying hanging up if he still had a flip phone. Fuck. Now he had to go back up to the room and get it out. At least he could take care of it himself.

The hallway was still quiet. After listening at the door and ascertaining that no one was inside, Vanderwood used one of the hotel keys they’d stolen from one of the _real_ maids to enter the room. The flash drive was sitting so nicely in the guy’s laptop, it was a wonder that the redheaded idiot could have forgotten it, but there wasn’t time to think about it right now.

As soon as Vanderwood had grabbed the drive, the hotel door opened. The target was standing there in shock with a bodyguard. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Hey, you there! What are you doing with my laptop?” Fucking a. Vanderwood grabbed his taser, noticing quickly that the bodyguard was only carrying close range weapons, a police stick actually. He snorted softly as he straightened his shoulders. “I was just-” and then he moved. Seven had higher advantage in the speed department, but against a similarly burly opponent, Vanderwood wasn’t so bad. His taser made contact with the man’s stomach, making him fall back in shock. Now Vanderwood was running off with the target screaming out after him. “Stop that man!”

By the time Vanderwood had made it down the stairs to the maintenance room rendezvous, there were hotel staff everywhere. Hell, it was a miracle he’d even made it to the maintenance room. His heart was racing and he was _actually_ out of breath, but as soon as he saw the redhead, that desire to punch him in the gut was back. “You ass! How the Hell am I supposed to get out of here now with the place swarming with staff?” Even though he was absolutely pissed, Vanderwood kept his voice quiet, whisper yelling.

The snicker that escaped the redhead made Vanderwood’s eyebrow go _absolutely insane_. “What? What. Is. So. Funny.” It took Seven a couple of minutes to completely bite back the uproarious laughter that wanted to escape him. The brunet was really missing that serious attitude his partner usually had while working. Ever since that damn girl had joined Seven’s little club the redhead had gotten worse. Vanderwood was obviously missing out on the best joke ever. Except he wasn’t. Now Seven was pulling out that dress from earlier and held it out to the brunet. “You sure you’re never wearing a dress?”

***

Vanderwood wanted to punch something. Every muscle in his body was aching as he was driving them back home. The redhead was _still_ laughing his ass off and _still_ taking pictures. He’d even managed to get one selfie style and Vanderwood was seriously considering tasing the kid to death once they got back to the garage. “I’m going to kill you.”

Seven snickered and laughed some more, wiping tears away from his eyes. “Don’t worry Vanderwood. At least no one else will ever see them, right?” After shooting some more glares Seven’s way, nonverbally telling him ‘They better fucking not’ Vanderwood looked back out the window. As soon as he was home he was having a smoke and finding himself a hooker. At least that would be some revenge, since Seven hated when he had his women over, but Hell, Seven deserved it.

It was the redhead’s fault for never doing his work anymore that had made Vanderwood move in with him in the first place in favor of living with him again over being killed for not finishing assignments. Seven had always been good at doing his work before, even if he'd typed with his feet half the time, but ever since some MC had shown up in the RFA or whatever the fuck it was, Seven had been useless. At least the bunker was nice and big so they didn't have to interact for the next few days. The kid was going to put on his noise cancelling headphones while Vanderwood did his business, and it was Seven’s fault that Vanderwood wasn’t able to relax. Vanderwood was going to delete this night from his memory, because this whole mission felt like one huge mistake.

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	15. The Perfect Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderwood thinks he's found the perfect woman for his needs.

He was finding it so hard to focus. His tie was annoying enough, but the suit was hot and uncomfortable. Why did he have to wear a suit? Oh, right, for the mission he was supposed to be paying attention to. Tonight, he would be framing someone for the murder of a seedy public official. They had dealings in sex trafficking, each of them. There was a small syringe of the chemical that the other man, the one being framed, was developing in his labs. So far, as far as anyone else knew, that lab was the only one to have this particular lethal chemical, and it was meant to be used for disposing of chemical waste, but Vanderwood was about to change that.

Vanderwood pulled on the collar of his suit once more. It felt like he was going to die. He much preferred his shirts and jacket. At least they were comfortable and easier to move around in. Although sometimes the jacket did get a _little_ in the way just because he preferred to wear it over his shoulders rather than on, so that people could see the leopard print. Say what you would about him, but he happened to think it looked rather good. It was certainly the most expensive thing he'd ever owned besides his imported mattress and his agency issued taser. He felt oddly…comforted by the print. Seven had asked him once why he wore it, but that was all he could come up with. Trying to think about it made him upset.

The target was walking past now. A tall, slick-haired man with a beautiful woman on his arm. Vanderwood found her far more interesting, probably because he was already irritated. Honestly, Vanderwood would be surprised if the woman wasn't an escort. Her dress was body hugging, silver like her nail polish and jewelry. The only thing that wasn't silver was her hair which was a light purple, although it did have a hint of gray tone to it. Maybe she dyed it? No, it looked natural.

She was unique, but she had assets, and that was all Vanderwood ever cared about with women really, besides making sure that they didn't touch him. Watching her with the target, she was definitely an escort. No one else would notice the way she was touching him just this way, making sure to keep her attention focused solely on her client. Yeah, escort. His eyebrow twitched as he once more discreetly tugged at his collar. Damn he wanted to hit that, she looked like a good fuck…just to get some relaxation out of tonight.

***

He'd been watching them all night, waiting for his opening, and now, here it was. Vanderwood followed the target and his escort from the ballroom of the hotel and up the elevator, taking the adjacent one. It wouldn't be long now. Quietly, he stood at the door, listening for when the man would finish, and he snorted when it only lasted five minutes. At least she was getting paid, Jesus. He was probably going to have to pay her off handsomely. If he knew escorts, he knew they just needed money, at least the good ones.

Vanderwood carefully inserted the hotel key that Seven had created, pressing the button on his phone that alerted Seven to the fact that he was commencing with the hit. The redhead would keep his location and send in a call for reinforcement if Vanderwood was gone longer than fifteen minutes, but the brunet really wasn't worried.

He made his way in quick, taking the syringe and decapping it to hear the sound of the escort gasping as she dropped the dress she'd been putting back on, re-exposing herself, probably a self-defense mechanism meant to stun the attacker, but he wasn't paying attention to her at the moment. The man was shouting something along the lines of 'What are you doing here?' when Vanderwood shoved the needle into the man's thigh. The chemical apparently reacted quickly as his veins started to protrude and turn purple, his hands scratching at his throat as he fell.

Now he allowed himself to pay attention to the escort, turning to face the woman who had so far remained silent since her first gasp. She was eyeing him, false modesty had her covering her body. He snorted softly looking her over. God, it would be so nice to get out of this suit and into her, but he couldn't do that while on a mission. Based on the way she now lifted her chin, giving him a calm and collected look, she knew that he wasn’t being fooled. Her tone was soft and gentle, like the brush of soft fabric along your skin, a little too pure for his taste, but so be it. "I won't talk. I'm not stupid. You don't even have to pay me. I'd rather be alive."  

She really was smart. He straightened out his shoulders as she dropped her arms away and went to put on her dress again. "Thought you were in this for the money." It wasn't really a question, but she answered anyway. "I am. Paying for law school and putting some money in savings, but I don't want to be killed for greed. I easily make enough money as it is." He noted that even though her voice was soft, it wasn’t not childish, more like sweet seduction. Vanderwood was actually smirking a little. So far, she hadn't tried to touch him, beg for her life, nor threaten to blackmail him which was what he was used to.

This one was the genuine real deal detached escort. "How much for an hour?" It rolled off his tongue like normal conversation. There was a dead body in front of him and a now elegantly dressed escort to his right, but it was such an easy topic still. His life would never be normal, clearly; he'd accepted that a long time ago.

"$2,000 for one hour. I won't touch you anywhere you don't ask me to, and I'm silent unless otherwise requested. Do you want to right now?" Her eyes slipped to the man on the ground. "In another room?" She was so calm, probably some other client had met a similar fate before, that or she was really well trained by her pimp. Most likely the first option, seeing as she wasn't even shaking. As tempting as her offer was, he couldn't now, even though he wanted to. "Give me your number."

Crystal was her name. She was so simple, so perfectly suited for his needs, and she didn't want anything from him other than her money and to leave at the end of the night. Sometimes he would ask her about how school was going, tell her to be wary of her pimps and johns, particularly if clients getting killed was a normal thing for her. Usually she would give him a small smile and tell him that she knew what she was doing.

Only once, the week he had her there every day, did she ask him why he needed an escort when he was such a great catch. He actually told her the truth. "I'm a sex addict and a secret agent. I can't ever find love or be in a relationship." Vanderwood said it casually as he pulled his shirt back on. It was the anniversary of his brother's death, that's why that week was so hard, although usually he'd be seeing a different woman every night. Her soft tones grated a little on his ears for the first time when she answered. "There's someone out there for you. She'll heal you. You just haven't found her yet." Vanderwood had snorted at her before she left.

He still called her the next day. She was the most perfect woman he would ever have in his life. In fact, she would be the only woman he would ever have actually in his life. Just one to two hours at a time, most often once a week or whenever things got to be too much. That was just the woman he needed.

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